Brightly Burning
by Aishuu
Summary: In a different world, Hikaru never steps into Touya Kouyo's salon. When he is fifteen, the Go world starts to take notice of a terrifying new insei with amazing strength...
1. Prologue: Who Can Say

Aishuu Offers:

Brightly Burning

mbsilvana@yahoo.com

~ A Hikaru no Go Alternate Universe ~

Disclaimers: Hotta and Obata. Shonen Jump. Not Mine.

NOTES: Shonen ai eventually (AkiHika), but that's WAY off. This actually starts a few months after Sai disappears, but the time line is VERY screwed up.

Prologue: Who Can Say

Anyone could come to take an insei test. That was the beauty of it, because no one was turned away, but it also led to many hopefuls who had no talent having their hopes crushed. 

  


When the fifteen-year-old walked in with his confused mother beside him, Shinoda, the insei master, sighed a bit to himself, preparing to let the boy down gently. The bleached bangs and casual yellow shirt warned him that this boy probably had no clue what he was asking for; knew nothing about the world of Go.

  


He smiled at the boy, checked the name on his list, and motioned for the teenager to take the seat across from him. "Shindou Hikaru?" he asked.

The boy nodded, falling into a comfortable cross-legged position, rather than the traditional kneeling pose. "Yes." He handed over three kifu, which looked like they had been printed out from the Internet.

  


This wasn't the first time Shinoda had seen NetGo kifu, but it was the first time anyone had submitted them at the insei test. Each of the moves had been numbered neatly with a computer, and his eyes widened as he examined the skill level displayed by both players. "These are yours?" he asked, trying to make sure. The moves were beautifully rendered, and he started to take the applicant a bit more seriously as he studied them. Shindou's kifu showed a strong player who had the ability to cut off opponents at every turn and plan deeply.

  


Shindou nodded. "I used my real name so you could be sure," he said softly. He seemed slightly distracted as his mother shifted beside him.

  


"Ano... how long will this take?" the woman said, shifting forward uneasily. 

  


Shinoda hid his surprise well; usually parents were more eager than their child, but Shindou's mother seemed utterly baffled by what was going on. Apparently, this was all Shindou's idea. He made a mental note of that, and turned to the woman. "The test takes about an hour. Parents are allowed to wait outside," he told her, knowing she was going to bolt.

  


He saw her lean close to Shindou, who waved her off as she said something. Smiling nervously, she bowed to him and left the room.

  


"Place three stones," Shinoda said to Shindou, deciding to sort it all out later. This was a most unusual testing.

  


Shindou blinked a bit in surprise. "We don't play evenly?" he asked. He looked a bit disappointed.

  


Shinoda had to keep from chuckling. Most would-be insei were relieved at the break, but Shindou seemed insulted. "No. I'm a pro. It'd be very unfair for us to play an even match, and this is to judge your skill level."

  


Shindou's eyes narrowed, and he clenched his fists before relaxing. "Okay," he said, digging into the_go ke_ and placing three shale stones. 

  


Shinoda played his first stone where he always did against would-be insei, and waited to see Shindou's response. This would be the deciding factor - how Shindou actually played. Any oddities about him could be dismissed; it was his game that mattered.

  


The boy seemed to calm down as he placed a reply, beginning the game in earnest...

  


It was a slaughter, but one the insei master hadn't been expecting. Less than twenty moves in, he stared down, realizing that giving this boy a three stone handicap had been ridiculous and Shindou had been right to be insulted. There was no way he could save the white stones on the left, and the boy was quickly claiming enough territory on the bottom to win by over 10 moku.

This was like playing a pro.

  


He bowed to resign, and the boy stared at him. "Do I pass?"

  


Something about the way Shindou asked that drew Shinoda up short. There seemed to be a deep sorrow in his eyes, as though he really wasn't focusing. His blood chilled when he realized that Shindou wasn't even trying.

  


"Who taught you to play?" he asked. Surely if he had been trained by a pro, rumors of Shindou would have come to them. There shouldn't be a teenager this strong, not unless he was in the pro world.

  


Shindou's eyes lowered. "A friend," he said softly. "We'd play every night, and on the net..." 

  


Past tense, the insei master noted. "Do you two still play? He's surely a professional." If the student is this good, what is the teacher like? he wondered, feeling his heart begin to race. The Japanese Go world could use talent like this, he thought eagerly. If Shindou and his mentor entered....

  


Shindou shifted uncomfortable. "He's gone," he said softly. Then his eyes hardened again. "Do I pass?"

  


A part of him almost said no, for despite Shindou's astounding skills, there was something amazingly... off about him. With his talent, he would quickly crush the other insei, and that wasn't necessarily a good thing. They were trying to mold the players of the future, not destroy their confidence by putting them up against someone who would easily pass the pro exam.

His eyes widened as he realized exactly what sat in front of him, in the shape of this casual boy. NetGo and a friend... what would he be like with real guidance? His heart raced at the thought. Maybe Touya Akira wasn't the player of his generation. Maybe there would indeed be a rival for the rapidly rising 2-dan... 

  


It took Shinoda a moment longer to make his decision, but it was inevitable. The Go world needed to be shaken up, and Shindou would be the one to do it. He nodded slowly, feeling like he was being swept away by a current he couldn't control. "Come in starting next month," he said. "Get your mother, and I'll let you know about the details."

  


END PROLOGUE

  


Credit: Thanks to those who said "go ahead and do this" and a special thanks to tenshihanafubuki, who's signed on as beta for this ride. This is the first of a few length HnG AUs I have planned, but part one should be out later this week. With Alter Egos out of the way, it's time for a new project!


	2. Chapter 1: Miracles Out of Nowhere

Aishuu Offers:

Brightly Burning

mbsilvana@yahoo.com

~ A Hikaru no Go Alternate Universe ~

Disclaimers: Hotta and Obata. Shonen Jump. Not Mine.

Note: Sorry this took longer than I announced, but because the Go was complicated and there were concerns, I had two people who know the game look this over, adding to my usual editing process.

  


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter One: Miracles Out of Nowhere

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

  
  


When Waya Yoshitaka met the new insei, his immediate impression was one of confusion. Shindou

Hikaru had no clue what he was doing there. Still, there was a quality about Shindou that drew other

people to him like bears to honey, even though there was the possibility of a being stung to death.

  


And Shindou did have a sting.

  


Most new insei languished in the lower classes for months, vying for positions in the last ten slots,

but the Shindou won his first game. And his second. When he won his third, people started to pay

attention. A winning streak was hard to maintain, but Shindou had just breezed through the first

three games of his insei class. That was when Waya, as the top-ranked student in the class, came to

meet him formally.

  


Shindou's ranking was starting to inch up - next month, he would likely be top of the second class...

practically unheard of for a new insei. Either Shindou was a genius, or there was something else

going on.

  


Or both. 

  


Waya wanted to know. Waya had watched him come in on the first day of classes in January, and

there was a feeling around Shindou that had made the hair on the back of Waya's neck stand on end.

Waya had learned to trust his instincts, knowing that in a Go game, sometimes listening to his

instincts would be what decided the game.

  


Shindou had just finished his fourth game against another new insei, whose name Waya never

bothered to learn. Waya watched as the blond rose to record his win, and made his move. He walked

to the table, coming up carefully from the side. Something told him that Shindou wouldn't like

having people at his back. "Yo," he said. "You're Shindou, right?"

  


The other boy nodded, not removing his eyes from the record sheet. "Yes." He stamped the black

mark before picking up the stamp which indicated his opponent had resigned to him."You're

Waya," he stated. He turned his head to regard Waya carefully. An imp of mischief lingered around

his eyes, like he was on the verge of coming out and cracking jokes.

  


Least he's not like Ochi, Waya thought, still annoyed at losing last year's pro test to him. Isumi had

deserved to win, and that outsider Kadowaki had totally been unforeseen, but Ochi needed to have

his ego stamped down firmly. If only the only person who seemed able to do it wasn't Touya Akira...

Waya thought grumpily. Even though Isumi and Ochi hadn't yet begun to play in official pro

matches, he had the feeling that Ochi was going to go far, and Touya was going to be the only

person who could regularly thump Ochi back down to size. The thought of the 2-dan made Waya

sigh inside. Oh, he hated him passionately.

  


Shindou tilted his head. "Something wrong?" he asked curiously.

  


"Just thinking about something," Waya said, sitting down next to Shindou without invitation.

  


"Must have been unpleasant. You look like you've bitten a large slice of lemon." Shindou leaned

forward, tapping his fingers against the table before leaning back to stare at the ceiling.

  


"You could say that. Someone I didn't like," Waya replied. And then some...

  


Shindou lowered his eyes then to meet Waya's, and for the first time, Waya noticed their color. They

were green, a dull faded green that looked dreamy and distant. "Life's too short not to like people,"

he said in a melancholy voice, before perking up. "You won today, didn't you, Waya? You're the top

insei..."

  


"Honda and I swap positions monthly," Waya said. "Sometimes I'm number one, other times, he is."

Though I've been top for the last three months, Waya thought with satisfaction. Being top insei

didn't mean anything when the pro exam rolled around, but it did give good momentum going in. He

firmly intended on keeping the position, because this year he was going to pass. His mother had won

the battle to make him go to high school, but if he passed, he intended on dropping out.

  


Shindou rested his elbows on his knees, cupping his chin in his hands. "It'd be nice to play you. The

matches I'm playing now aren't..." he bit his lip, apparently afraid of being overheard. 

  


Waya stared at Shindou. The second-class insei who had played him were terrified, and Waya didn't

blame Shindou for being bored. "Don't you play against your sensei?" he asked curiously. "Or in the

Go classes or salons?"

  


"I never really had a sensei," Shindou replied. "And I don't go to classes and I've never been in a

salon." He rose to his feet, and Waya hurriedly followed him.

  


"You what?" he asked in astonishment. Shindou has won four insei games, and never had a

sensei? No classes or visits to the salons? The feeling of strangeness Shindou carried with him

came back full-force, and Waya wondered exactly how Shindou became so powerful. How the Hell

did he learn?

Shindou didn't reply immediately, merely went over to where he had been playing and lifted the

goban up to store it, since his afternoon opponent had taken off. Waya followed him, still trying to

figure the other teenager out. "My sensei has a study group. If you want, I can ask if you can

attend," Waya said. He had no idea what prompted him to make that offer, but he was curious, and

now that Isumi was gone, he could use a close friend among the insei. Honda spent most of the time

studying with his teacher, and none of the others were strong enough to give him a challenge.

  


"Study session?" Shindou asked curiously. "What's that?"

Waya blinked. Shindou was genuinely naive - he apparently had no clue what a study session was.

"Um... it's where a bunch of pros get together and discuss kifu of recent games, or things like that.

Sometimes they play each other. My sensei is a 9-dan," he stated proudly. 

  


"Oh," Shindou replied. "That's nice." He started out towards the hall, forcing Waya to trot to keep

up.

  


"Do you want to come?" he asked. Most insei would be jumping at the invitation, but Shindou

apparently had no clue what he had been offered. Studying with a 9-dan... doesn't he know that it's

a great opportunity?

  


"I guess." Shindou didn't seem too enthused about the idea, his casual acceptance very off-the-cuff.

"Right now, I'd rather get something to eat." He turned to the foyer to fetch his shoes, and Waya

rolled his eyes. 

  


A week later, Shindou showed up to Morishita's study session ten minutes early, looking around at

the other men in the room a bit dubiously. Waya had wondered if he would actually appear, but the

insei had surprised him again. Shindou was as unpredictable as the wind.

  


Shindou bowed as he entered the room before coming over to Waya. One of the pros still hadn't

arrived, so the others were just sitting around, musing over a board and chatting quietly before the

session began in earnest. "Yo, Shindou. I'm glad you decided to show." Morishita-sensei would

have given me Hell if you didn't, was the unvoiced thought.

  


"I like studying Go," he said. "My fuseki are a bit old, so I'm working on updating them."

  


"Oh?" Waya asked curiously. Go was go, but there were certain fuseki that were developed by

players as the game evolved and popular thought changed. For Shindou to think his playing was out

of date was certainly intriguing. A thought tugged on his mind... he had thought he had seen an

exceptional strong player with the same problem...

  


Impossible.

  


"Will you introduce your friend, Waya?" Morishita asked from across the room, and Waya had to

stifle a laugh under his palm as Shindou shifted on his feet uncomfortably as the pros all turned their

eyes on him. Grabbing Shindou's elbow, he dragged the new insei over, almost overbalancing the

other boy. "This is Shindou Hikaru. He just became an insei this month. Shindou, this is Morishita-

sensei. I've been with him for five years." 

  


Shindou bowed again, straightening slowly after shrugging Waya's hand off his elbow. "Nice to

meet you," he said, glaring at Waya for the rude treatment. 

  


"Only a month?" Morishita said. "Are you enjoying it?"

  


Waya could see Shindou was trying to decide between the socially polite answer and the truth. "He's

won his first six games," he said hurriedly, since Shindou had added more wins since he had

accepted the invitation. "He should be in the first group next month."

  


"I will be," Shindou said. "Even if through some fluke I blow the rest of my games, I have enough

wins to get into first class." 

  


"That's really good!" said one of the pros encouragingly. "How long have you been playing?"

"Since I was twelve," Shindou answered. "Three years."

  


Waya blinked a bit. "Just three years?" Waya asked, feeling cold. The thorough thumping Shindou

had issued to all of the second class insei was becoming the stuff of legend, and he had only been

playing for three years? And he's never had a teacher, played in salons, belonged to a club... 

  


"Yes," Shindou said. 

  


"That's like Kurata!" one of the pros laughed. "I'm Saeki, and this is Shirakawa. Tsuduki is

perpetually late, so..."

  


"We'll give him another five minutes," Morishita proclaimed. He considered the newest insei. "How

did you learn?" he asked, toying with his fan.

  


"From a friend... and sometimes on the net," Shindou answered. His voice grew soft, and there was a

tone of closure to it, one that made Morishita quirk his eyebrow at Waya, who merely shook his

head slightly, indicating he had no clue.

  


Tsuduki chose then to bustle into the room, stammering his usual apologies for his tardiness. His

middle-aged face was flushed with embarrassment as he bowed to his master, and then waited as

Hikaru was introduced to him.

  


"It's funny you should mention the Internet," Morishita said. "We were discussing a game that

happened on the net today."

  


"Oh?" Hikaru said in a neutral voice. "I didn't know that pros were into net gaming." He came over

and took one of the two remaining spaces, the one the furthest away from Morishita and stared down

at it. His breath caught slightly, and he glanced over at Waya.

  


"This is..." Hikaru whispered, staring at it intensely.

  


"Sai, a really famous net player, versus Touya Kouyo, the meijin. Sai's the main reason NetGo has

been so popular in the past three years - everyone wants to play him," Saeki grinned a bit sheepishly.

"I've played him twice, and he's squashed me like a bug both times. We thought the meijin would

have better luck..." He trailed off, leaving the thought dangling.

"Sai's such an amazing player," Waya inserted enthusiastically, taking his seat. "When Touya-

meijin was ill, they challenged each other... and Touya-sensei lost. Can you imagine? An amateur

beating a pro!"

  


Morishita stared at the game. "This happened about a month ago, but I finally got a copy of the kifu.

Waya's been too busy to write it down before, and I wanted to have a chance to look it over." He

stared at the board. "Ranking and titles aren't everything. Sometimes there's people out there who are

exceptional," Morishita said. "We've been examining the game, and..."

  


"Sai simply went above him," Shirakawa said in awe. "I've watched some of his games, but..."

  


The pros fell into argument, discussing possibilities, but finally came to the conclusion that Touya

Kouyo simply had been outplayed in a game between masters. Shindou watched them, his eyes

studied their gestures, rather than the board.

  


Morishita waited until they had exhausted themselves before pointing his fan at Hikaru. "What do

you think?" he asked.

  


Shindou didn't jump or look surprised at the sudden attention. "This game? I saw it," Shindou said.

He seemed a bit indifferent. "Sai played well, but Touya didn't rise to the challenge."

  


The other players looked at him in shock. "What do you mean?" Morishita asked, training keen eyes

on Shindou's face, taking him seriously. Waya wanted to yell at Shindou for being insulting to the

meijin, but the green eyes had darkened, and Waya's stomach twisted in knots as his senses became

overwhelmed by a feeling that Shindou was about to say something profound.

  


"Touya should have won," Shindou said. "Here." He pointed to the corner. "White would have had

to respond, if Touya-sensei hadn't tried to save himself from being cut. It would have gained black

more territory, and Sai would have lost by several moku." Shindou stared down at the board,

speaking softly. "Touya-sensei couldn't think outside of the traditional box."

  


The pro's stared at Shindou for a moment, and Morishita looked at the board with hard eyes before

examining Shindou's face. "You're right. There's a tendency among us older pros to get stuck in a

funk and entranced by our own power," he said. "Maybe that's what happened to Kouyo."

  


Waya, though, barely heard him, and instead stared at Shindou's hard face. There was no trace of

laughter or sorrow, merely determination and the sheer knowledge of an expert player, one who

belonged in the roomful of pros... one who may have had even more right to be there than Waya

himself.

  
  
  


~*~*~*~

  


Shindou was in the first class the next month, and Waya wondered if any of the other insei felt as he

did. He wasn't at all nervous; rather, he felt like he was watching the inevitable flow of a tide.

Shindou was progressing towards something and he was... privileged... to watch it happen.

  


Still, it didn't mean that Waya didn't want to win. He was scheduled to play him in five games, and

Waya fully intended on learning as much as he possibly could about his fellow insei. Shindou would

smile and laugh with them, but every now and then a distance would enter his eyes and he would go

unreachable. It was then that he became most dangerous, playing games with moves that other

people hadn't dreamt of.

  


Waya badly wanted to see him play. Shindou had always defeated his opponents before Waya's

matches ended, and at the study sessions, the players had only discussed games lately, not actually

played. The pros listened to Shindou's occasional words carefully, because he usually added

something very insightful, but most of the time Shindou would just watch with sharp eyes. Waya

hadn't actually seen any of Shindou's kifu yet, and he wanted to in the worst way. He couldn't wait to

play him; the insightful comments he contributed at the study group made him burn with fire.

  


Before their match, though, Shindou had to get by Honda, and that would be a true gauge of his

skill. Honda was currently second in class, and was one of the top candidates to pass the pro exam,

as long as no strong outsiders made an appearance. Waya had won their last match by a hair, and he

considered him his chief rival.

  


Well, as long as Shindou didn't shoot right by them.

  


Honda was to play him in the third this month, and Waya was scheduled to play the other player

who had moved up from the second group. He anticipated a quick win, and wanted to catch the end

of Shindou's game. It might answer that question that had been plaguing him since Shindou had

casually derided Sai's game with Touya Kouyo, the one he didn't dare voice aloud. He had been

watching Sai's games for three years, and he knew he would recognize the distinctive style, the mix

of Shusaku and modern techniques.

  


Was it possible he had met Sai at last? a small voice nagged whenever Shindou said something,

particularly after that first session, but he firmly repressed it. Sai had defeated Touya Kouyo recently

- surely he wouldn't waste his time as an insei. Waya's childish wish that Sai was around his age had

been blown away by that game, since Sai's experience could only had come from years and years of

extensive practice. He dismissed the notion before the idea had a chance to completely materialize.

  


He ran into Shindou the morning Shindou was to play Honda as the blond was putting away his

shoes. The boy didn't seem at all concerned that he was about to face one of the highest-ranked insei;

instead, he was irritated, muttering something about being harassed by a group of tourists.

  


Waya had run into a group or two of tourists himself, and could understand the sentiment, but

Shindou had absolutely no focus. "Morning, Shindou," he said. "Ready for the game today?"

  


"Always," Shindou said, leaning against the wall casually as he waited for Waya to remove his

shoes. "Are you doing anything for lunch? Maybe we could go together?" he suggested.

  


"Sure. There's a McDonald's that a group of us occasionally go to during break. Maybe we can ask

Nase, Fuku and Honda if they want to come as well. You're playing Honda today, and it should be a

tough game."

  


"Sounds good." Shindou smiled slightly, and Waya wasn't sure exactly if it was lunch of the game

Shindou was referring. They went in, and Waya was quiet, wondering why Shindou's words had

sounded so ominous.

  


Shindou waved cheerfully to Nase, and then went over to where Honda was kneeling. With a bit of

awkwardness he took his place, still not used to the traditional posture. Waya was willing to wager

that within ten minutes, Shindou would fall into a more familiar cross-legged seat. 

  


Waya shook thoughts of Shindou from his mind, realizing he would have to concentrate on his own

match before watching what anyone else was doing. Curiosity was well and good as long as it didn't

interfere with his own path to the pros. His opponent, an insei who had been with the program for

almost a year and had finally entered the class, watched as he approached. She was nervous, and

Waya knew that he could use that against her. He had control of the game before it even started,

because she believed he was better than she was. Go was a meeting of minds, and he already had the

upper hand.

  


The buzzer sounded, and Waya bowed to his opponent, waiting for her to play. He loved watching

the pattern form, and he lost himself in it. The game evolved, and he realized she was beginning to

relax, but it was too late, since her shape was too weak. He would cut it in half easily... 

  


Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Honda stumble from the room. What happened? he wondered.

The game had been only going for an hour! His hands trembled as he studied the board in front of

him, determined to keep his attention on his own match. He would need another twenty moves to

force her to resign, but he could see the final pattern. It was only through sheer discipline he made it

happen. By that time, Shindou had disappeared.

  


Waya found Honda in the lobby, staring down at his hands. "What happened?" he asked, wondering

if Honda had been having an off day. It happened sometimes.

  


Honda's eyes were haunted. "Do you remember when I played Touya Akira in last year's Young

Lion's Tournament?" he asked softly.

  


Waya nodded. "Of course." Honda had been the insei unlucky enough to draw the prodigy in the

first round and be thoroughly humiliated.

  


"It was like that. No matter what I did, Shindou just cut me down. He had control from the

beginning and didn't let go... why the hell is he here, Waya?" Honda asked, his eyes wide. "He's...

Waya, it was like playing my sensei when he feels like knocking me down to size." He ran irritated

hands through his hair, taking deep breaths in a somewhat successful attempt to regain control over

himself.

  


Waya felt his heart rate quicken, knowing that Shindou's mystique was starting to envelop them all.

"Shindou... I don't know. He was going to join me for lunch today - you're welcome to come, if you

want."

  


Honda nodded and took another deep breath, letting his hands fall to his sides. "I want to understand

him." He forced a very fake smile.

"Where is he?" Waya asked.

  


"I think he wandered off to see the building."

  


"Let's find him. Hopefully Nase and Fuku will be done by then, so we can all go." Waya clouted

Honda on the shoulder in a companionable manner.

  


They found Shindou lounging in a waiting room, paging through Weekly Go. "Hey, Shindou.

Studying?"

  


Shindou gave an embarrassed grin. "I'm looking at Touya Kouyo's latest match. Meijin, Jyudan,

Tengen, and Kosei... he's pretty good."

"You forgot Ouza," Waya said.

  


"Ouza?" Shindou echoed. "Is that a title?"

  


Waya felt irritated again; Shindou left him confused and fascinated, and Waya was starting to get

used to it until Shindou said something amazingly ignorant, arrogant or just plain stupid, rousing a

dragon of irritation that rivaled Waya's feelings towards Ochi and Touoya Akira. How the hell was

Shindou so damn good if he didn't even know that Ouza was a title? "It's a title, too. His most

recent."

  


"Really," Shindou said. "So do I call him Touya Ouza?"

  


"Um... no. He uses Meijin - that's his most prestigious title, and his first."

  


Shindou tapped his fingers thoughtfully against his chin. "Really." A wicked grin lit up his face. "I

wanna be Meijin."

"We all want to be Meijin!" Waya said, wanting to shake him. "But it won't happen unless you can

pass the pro exams, the preliminaries.... it takes years and years! And most players never reach that

level!" Doesn't he know what a title means? Waya wondered. There's only eight!

  


"But it's not impossible," Shindou said. His eyes focused on the kifu in front of him. "Somebody's

gonna beat him in a title match, and it's gonna be me." Something hard came into his green eyes, a

predatory look that Waya had only glimpsed occasionally at Morishita's study sessions.

  


Waya turned his eyes to Honda to shake his head at Shindou's arrogance, but Honda's face was pale.

Honda was focused on Shindou's eyes, and Waya wondered what he was thinking. He doesn't really

think that Shindou can do it, does he? Waya wondered. It's Touya-meijin, and Shindou may be

really good, but he's just an insei....

  


"Come on, Shindou. We're going to lunch," Waya said.

"Food!" Shindou said cheerfully, and in an instant reverted to the cheerfulness with a speed that

made Waya wonder if he had split personalities. "Let's go!"

  


Nase and Fuku met them in the foyer, and the quintet headed out to the local eatery. After placing

orders, they found the seats they usually took, and Waya reflected that it was strange how things had

changed. A year ago, Isumi and Ochi would have been with them... now it was Shindou.

  


"How did your game go?" Nase asked Honda and Shindou. She separated the pickles from her

hamburger and ate them with mustard, a weird habit that they all teased her for.

  


"I won," Shindou said casually. 

  


Honda nodded, staring at his food. "Sliced me in half..."

  


"You're good," Shindou said. "But your opening moves were conventional. You were expecting me

to use a standard joseki before we started the fight, and when I went outside of it, you didn't know

how to reply," he said. "It's a problem a lot of people have, trying to do things differently. If you

don't take risks, you can't win." 

  


Nase sighed. "That's just what Sakurano-pro told me when I played her in the Young Lion's

Tournament. I can't wait to play this year...."

  


"Young Lion's Tournament?" Shindou asked. "What's that?"

  


Waya blinked, shaking himself out of his funk. "You don't know?"

  


"Would I be asking if I knew?" Shindou said irritably, taking a slurp of his soda.

  


Waya almost slammed his head into the table in frustration. Shindou had just totally slaughtered

Honda in a game, and he didn't know what the Young Lion's Tournament was? Who the Hell was

Shindou? he wondered for the umpteenth time since meeting him.

  


Nase saved him from saying something he would regret. "The Young Lion's Tournament is a

tournament between young pros and insei," she said. "The top sixteen insei play sixteen young pros.

It's a lot of fun, and serves as good practice for the pro exams."

  


"Oh," Shindou said. "When is it?"

  


"May. You have about four more months to get a high enough ranking..." Waya said. "I don't think

you need to worry," he admitted, realizing that Shindou's defeat of Honda would seriously raise him

in the rankings.

  


"What happens if I win?" Shindou asked curiously.

  


Waya snorted. "Insei are lucky if they make it to the third round. You're not going to win," he said. 

  


Shindou looked at the other insei in disbelief. "Why don't you set your sights higher? If you don't

think you can win, then you won't."

  


Waya exchanged looks with the others. Shindou obviously didn't understand.

  


Honda set down his hamburger. "I hope I don't play Touya Akira this year." He shuddered. "Last

year he utterly slaughtered me. I'd like to make it to the third round...."

  


"He's related to the meijin?" Shindou asked, dribbling a disgusting amount of ketchup onto his fries. 

The others stopped and stared at him. "You haven't heard of him?" Nase asked after a moment, her

voice carefully neutral.

  


Shindou shook his head. "Nope. Should I?"

  


"He won the tournament last year, and he's got the longest winning streak going on record. He's

going to be a 3-dan very shortly," Waya said. "People are saying he's going to be the next meijin.

He's practically unbeatable, and he's a year younger than me." Waya was careful not to add any

epithets about Touya Akira's sheer arrogance, though he knew he could write an entire book on why

he didn't like the 2-dan.

  


"No one living is unbeatable," Shindou said, crumpling his napkin. "You've given him the game

before you're even played, by being so afraid. But he's not invisible." A slight smile played across

Shindou's lips, but it seemed terribly sad. "In the end, there is no one who doesn't lose."

  
  


~*~*~*~

  


At the next insei day, Waya's first game was against Shindou... and he finally got to see what had

everyone else so amazed and so terrified.

  


And it utterly blew him away.

  


He arrived a bit early, not wanting to meet Shindou in the foyer. Shindou was notoriously tardy,

usually arriving only five minutes ahead of time. He took out a goban and set it up, then shut his

eyes, trying to calm the nervous beating of his heart.

  


"Good luck, Waya," someone said, and he opened his eyes to see Honda in front of him.

  


"Any advice?" he asked.

  


Honda looked thoughtful, crossing his arms over his chest. "Just... learn from him."

  


Dammit... I'm going to win! Waya thought. If I go into this thinking I'm going to lose, Shindou

has the game! 

  


Shindou walked in with three minutes to spare, cutting it closer than usual. He gave Waya an

embarrassed grin as he settled down. "Maybe I should start taking an earlier train," he said.

Waya just shrugged; he was already in battle mode and small talk was not high on his priority list.

Shindou's eyes narrowed, and he reached over and grabbed one of the go kes. "Should we nigiri to

save time?" he offered.

  


Waya open the lid and saw he was holding the white stones. Wordlessly he drew a small handful and

placed them on the board, to which Shindou replied with one. "Eight," he said.

  


Shindou handed him the black stones and they sat together, staring at the clock without saying a

word. Waya felt tense, the same way he had during the pro exams. This game... this game...

  


The buzzer rang, and Shinoda spoke. "Begin."

  


They bowed to each other, and Waya placed his first stone down on 5-4. He had had time to

consider where to move, if he was black, and he thought the takamoku point was perfect. If Shindou

was going to play unconventionally, so was he.

  


Shindou took the parallel star, his fingers firmly pressing the clamshell stone down with the surety of

one who knew his mind. Waya looked over at Shindou, his eyes distrusting. Then his jaw dropped,

seeing the look on the other's face.

  


SCARY, was his first thought.

  


Shindou's eyes had narrowed, and the color has changed to shade of brilliant green that resembled a

pair of lambent cat's eyes. His intensity radiated around him, and Waya dropped the stone he was

holding back into the go ke before he could place it. Is this what others see? Are they too scared to

play him properly? Waya had to take a deep breath, find his center before he laid his next move

right below the next star.

  


Pa-chi! 

  


Shindou took the remaining star, the lines on the board clearly drawn as fuseki began.

  


Pa-chi! 

  


Waya consider the board, ignoring the timer before making his move carefully. It was hard to

release the stone, to commit, but he forced himself to.

  


Pa-chi! 

  


Shindou slapped down his next hand with less than fifteen seconds thought. It took Waya a moment

to get over the surprise, before taking his turn.

  


Pa-chi!

  


Pa-chi!

  


Pa-chi!

The hands came faster, and Waya felt himself being thrown into a game that was way above his

level. Shindou was controlling the pace, and Waya felt beads of sweat form at his hairline.

  


I can't... I can't win this... he realized as the game entered chuban his shape wasn't going to stand up

to Shindou. The other insei was going to kill his stones, and there was nothing he could do about it.

  


Learn from him, Honda had told him... but he knew it was time to resign. "I'm losing," he said,

bowing.

  


"Thanks for the game," Shindou replied. He swept his hands towards the board, but he was stopped

when Waya caught his hand.

  


"Shindou, why are you here? You're too powerful..." he demanded.

  


Shindou was quiet as he stared at the game. "There's a lot about Go I don't know," he said. "Every

game, I learn something." He smiled at Waya sadly, a smile that held mysteries that Waya burned to

solve. He looked across the room as where the score sheet was kept, one that he hadn't had to claim a

loss on yet. "As for why I play... I'm looking for something. When I find it, that's when I won't need

to play anymore."

  


"You'd just stop?" Waya asked in horror.

  


Shindou sighed a bit to himself, leaning forward so his hands rested on his knees. "Waya, there are

some things we never find."

  


END PART ONE

~~~~~~~~~~

  


Credits:

  


Thanks to Saul and Russ Williams, who looked over this to correct my Go. There is one thing I didn't correct: Saul says three years isn't THAT unreasonable to get into the pros (though it's uncommon), but we're doing the Hikago-verse. The series made a deal over how fast Kurata rose (and Kurata had pros teaching him). Shindou is scary because he had no one... and is a mystery. Insei do rise rapidly in some cases, as Ochi did, but others languish for years. Allow me a bit of artistic license.

  


For those who wondered, yes, Touya is a 2-dan. He will be a 3-dan in the next chapter, to reflect the passage of time.

  


I will be correcting some of the minor flaws in the prologue when I get a moment, but these are all go-related and make no difference to the flow of the story. 

Credit to tenshihanafubuki for the edit!


	3. Chapter 2: Something More Than This

Aishuu Offers:

Brightly Burning

mbsilvana@yahoo.com

~ A Hikaru no Go Alternate Universe ~

Disclaimers: Hotta and Obata. Shonen Jump. Not Mine.

Note: Thanks to Hissori for answering weird, obscure questions! I'm indebted to Toriyama's scripts for dialogue help.

  
  


Chapter 2: Something More Than This

Shindou Hikaru had taken over the top slot in the class by the time of the Young Lion's Tournament and held onto it for three months. No one had defeated him yet, and that achievement had definitely turned some heads. 

Waya and Honda knew they should envy him as a rival, but for some reason, it never happened. There was just something about watching Shindou that made their hands tremble nervously whenever they were matched against him, feeling they were playing shidou-go, instead of vying for ranking. No matter what moves they made, Shindou would counter with clever hands that cut them off at every turn, and do it with an ease that was almost insulting.

  


And Shindou seemed bored with it all. He would come to the classes and study groups regularly, but contributed nothing to discussions unless prodded, seeming to have his attention on something else half the time. He wasn't indifferent - hardly that. He was merely...

  


Waya didn't know what the right word was. Shindou was one of the most complex people he had ever met. Something about the other boy made Waya feel almost sorry for him, since Shindou seemed directionless, seeking something he wasn't quiet sure of.

  


Waya knew that one of the three pro positions would be taken by Shindou without any effort when the pro exam rolled around. He knew he should worry about that, but there was nothing he could do. Shindou was a force of nature, and Waya knew enough to admit that he was better than he was.

  


What made it worse, though, was the fact it was impossible to hate Shindou. Shindou was so blasted nice that Waya couldn't dislike him. It would have been so much easier if he could hate him, but Shindou was good company, whenever he wasn't acting... off. And the times when he acted weird were usually only when he sat at the goban.

  


He would be cold and distant on certain subjects, and obscenely naive about the Go World, but usually he was a normal teenage boy who liked to hang out, complain about school and mess around with his computer. The top insei liked to tease the others, but underneath his naive face was a core of strength that was marvelous. 

  


Waya liked spending time with him. He was surprised at that; he and Shindou had even gone to some of the go parlors together and played against some of the players there. To his surprise, Shindou hadn't been kidding when he said he had never been in one before.

  


"Why would I bother going?" Shindou had wanted to know when Waya had invited him on one of his irregular pilgrimages. "Don't you have to pay? I could play all the Go I wanted to on the net for free."

  


/_Thwap! _/

  


Waya had taken a copy of the Weekly Go and hit Shindou upside the head with it, just hard enough to make the younger boy's teeth shake. "Stupid! You need to learn how to play living people! You need to see what is in their faces!" he said. "Besides, you can only play one game on a computer - have you ever played multiple games?"

  


Shindou had stopped rubbing his head. "No..."

  


"This Saturday, I'm taking you around! How do you expect to be able to tutor at Go festivals if you can only play on one board?" 

  


"Why would I want to tutor?" he asked.

  


"Shindou... do you know what pros do?" Waya asked after a moment. Just when he thought Shindou was starting to catch on, his ignorance would once again rear its ugly and sometimes amusing head...

  


"They play Go?"

  


"Who do you think they play Go _/with_?"/ Waya asked. "Shindou, pros make money by tutoring and giving lectures! There's only eight titles, and there's hundreds of pros! Use your head!"

  


Shindou seemed thoughtful. "So I have to get used to playing a bunch of really bad players and not slaughtering them..."

  


"That's the general idea, yes. As insei, we try to get strong enough to become pros. Once we're there, we teach. Or go to tournaments and give demonstrations. Or the really strong pros win titles, but that will be years off."

  


Shindou looked a bit bemused. "Okay... but I'll win a title soon so I won't have to teach long."

  


/_Thwap!/_

  


Waya hit him over the head again for good measure. "You're such an idiot!"

  


Shindou did show up the next Saturday afternoon, though. He was wearing a bright yellow shirt that brought out his bleached hair, and Waya stared at him for a moment. The old men in the parlors were going to try to eat him alive - only to find the kitten was a lion. 

  


Waya couldn't wait to see what happened.

  


"Where are we going?" Shindou asked curiously, shuffling along with his hands in his pockets.

  


"There's a Go salon I've been meaning to check out called Dougenzaka. It's pretty well established and has some strong players. Um, I should tell you that most of these places are pretty full of cigarette smoke, and the clients can be rough."

  


"You can explain to my mother why I smell like an ashtray," Shindou said, a mocking smile on his lips. "She already thinks I'm nuts, and now she'll think I'm falling in with a bad crowd."

  


Waya laughed a bit bitterly. "My mother is annoying, too. She made me take entrance exams... I told her I was going to be a pro, but she won't let me drop out unless I pass the pro exams."

  


"You came in fourth..." Shindou said. "That's a good sign that you will pass eventually."

  


"Eventually's not good enough! I needed to pass last year!" Waya flared. "Fourth place in the pro exam is the first loser!" He took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax. He clenched and unclenched his fist, reminding himself to find his calm. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't yell, but..."

  


"It's okay," Shindou said. "I don't understand a lot and I'm really good at putting my foot in my mouth." He gave a cheerful smile. "I'll buy you some ramen after we're done as an apology."

"I prefer sushi. There's a good sushi bar around here."

  


"Ramen! Nothing's better than ramen!" Shindou said. "Any flavor, any time of day...." 

  


Waya could have sworn he saw stars sparkling in Shindou's eyes, but decided to be stubborn. "Sushi!" Waya returned. "The place makes maguro to die for!"

  


The two continued to debate the merits of cuisine on their way to the go parlor. On the way up the steps, Shindou stuck his tongue out at Waya, dashed in front, then held the door open. "After you," he said gravely.

  


"Thanks."

  


The place was like most established go parlors, comfortable but lived in. The scent of smoke met them, and Waya was amused that Shindou immediately sneezed. With a grin for his peer, he walked over to the old lady behind the counter. "If we each beat two of your customers in multiple matches, will you waive the fee?" he asked. Last summer he and Isumi had toured salons and had made similar deals with most parlors. Customers were always eager to play insei.

  


The woman stiffened. "Waive the fee?" she echoed, sounding offended. "Now, don't get cocky..."

  


A man who was nearby looked up in interest. "Now, now, Meroko... it sounds interesting. I'll play, knock the kids down to size. Doumoto, Saga??"

  


Two other men looked up from there seats and nodded in agreement, smirking at the two young men.

  


"Me as well," a white haired man said, coming up to join the others.

  


"Master!" the customers said in delight, looking over at the man who obviously owned the salon.

  


The woman rolled her eyes. "Fine!" Swinging around, she leveled a pudgy finger in Waya's face. "If either of you lose, you two are washing all the stones in the place!"

  


"Sure, sure..." he agreed, feeling a bit nervous. Hopefully Shindou wouldn't fall apart under the strain of having to balance multiple games for the first time.

  


The boards were quickly set up, and the men cheerfully argued, trying to decide how to split themselves up. Shindou merely watched it all with a slightly bemused expression before taking his seat. "We'll take white on both boards," Waya said.

  


"Cocky, aren't you?" the man across from him said.

  


"Confident," Shindou replied softly. "Please," he said, bowing to his opponents.

  


The games began, and Waya turned his attention to the two boards in front of him. He wasn't fond of multiple games, and after about ten moves, he knew the player on his left was a strong opponent. The one on his right would be dealt with easily enough, but he would have to be careful...

  


"I resign..." he heard from one of the player's on Shindou's boards, but Waya didn't bother to spare a glance. 

  


"I'm losing..." came moments later.

  


Waya looked over then, taking a deep breath as he realized what had happened. Shindou's games had barely advanced into chuban, and he had completely dominated. The older men had been wise enough to see how outclassed they were, and resigned gracefully.

  


/Another Shindou miracle,/ he thought with a bit of amusement. /He really is a genius, to win two simultaneous games so easily his first try.../ Shaking his head a bit, he turned his focus back to the boards in front of him, determined not to lose now. 

  


Apparently Shindou's easy victory had shaken Waya's opponents, for they lost their concentration and fell apart. It was with a bit of disappointment that he accepted both resignations - they hadn't played well, probably too startled by what Shindou had pulled off.

  


Shindou had watched his game with a thoughtful look, and he knew that Shindou had dissected it. "Well?" he asked.

  


"You're getting stronger," Shindou said. "A bit reckless, but that can be a strength." He looked at the board thoughtfully. "You should have connected here."

  


"That's weak!" Waya protested. "It's..."

  


"It lures your opponent in. Three moves later, you would have been able to kill the stones on the upper left... you would have won much more quickly." Shindou gave him a smile. "Not saying they weren't good games..."

  


Waya gave him a glare. No matter how well he played, Shindou was always able to suggest something that would have raised his game to a higher level - the level that was the difference between an insei and a pro. 

  


"Who are you?" one of the men who'd been playing Shindou asked quietly. "You're not a pro...."

  


"We're insei," Waya said. "We need practice on our multiple games, so we decided to come to a salon," he answered, a bit afraid of how Shindou would answer. 

  


"Don't pros usually offer handicaps while doing this?" he asked Waya.

  


"Yes, usually. I just wanted to make sure you -"

  


"I can handle more boards, and the games can be handicapped," Shindou said quickly.

  


Waya sighed and shifted out of his seat. "Be my guest," he said after a moment. He enjoyed watching Shindou play - when he wasn't too busy being scared out of his wits at Shindou's prodigious skills.

  


"Thanks."

  


Shindou gave Waya a brief smile before arranging himself in the middle of the boards. His eyes narrowed in the way that Waya knew meant trouble for his opponents as he quickly replied to each of their moves. Around them, all of the customers in the parlor gathered to watch the games, obviously wondering if Shindou would be able to handle the handicap games.

  


The woman came out from behind the counter and over to Waya, her expression losing some of her crankiness. "Who is he?" she asked.

  


"Shindou Hikaru," Waya answered. "He's the top insei right now, but he's missing a lot of practical experience."

  


She studied his face, and something in her old features softened. "Poor boy," she murmured. "I hope he starts feeling better."

  


"Huh?" Waya's eyes jerked to her face.

  


"Look at his eyes. Can't you see he's in a lot of pain?" she said softly. "I wonder what he's lost."

  


Waya almost replied that he knew Shindou caused a lot of other people pain by making them lose, but the old woman's gravity made him bite his tongue and really LOOK.

Shindou's stones were quickly gaining back the handicaps he was playing under, but Waya ignored the boards to examine his friend's face. At first he saw only the look at frightened his opponents, the intensity that seemed ready to devour anything in its path, but then he looked deeper...

  


...and there was a horrible loneliness in their depths. 

  


He wondered how he could have missed it.

  


_/Shindou,/_ he thought, _/what's your secret? What makes you who you are?/_

  


The door behind him opened and a man in his late forties entered, chewing on a toothpick. "Yo, Meroko-san! What's up?" he asked, noticing the group.

  


"An insei is playing multiple board games. This is his friend..." she said, nodding at Waya.

  


"Waya Yoshitaka," he said, bowing to introduce himself. 

  


"I'm Kawai,"he said, staring at the scene in front of him. "Wish I'd been here sooner, I would've liked to play."

  


"Kawai-san is the best player here," the old woman said. "I think he would have made it significantly more difficult for your friend..."

  


"I resign," said one of the players, pushing himself back from the board.

  


"Doubt it. Shindou's a genius." Waya looked over at the three continuing games, seeing how Shindou was doing, and wasn't surprised that he had just about caught up.

  


Shindou won all his games, though the master managed to bring his into yose. "That's tiring! My head hurts," he said, looking at Waya.

  


"It's hard work, isn't it?" he asked.

  


"Not really that. I was just up playing on the net really late last night and didn't get enough sleep," Shindou said with a bit of embarrassment.

  


"Why you!" Kawai said, storming up from behind him. To Waya's shock, the man gave Shindou's bleached bangs a thorough noogie, ignoring his indignant yelps. "I'll teach you to be disrespectful to your elders!"

  


"OW!" Shindou whined, finally jerking away. "Whaddya do that for?"

  


"Because you're a rude brat!" Kawai retorted.

  


Shindou's mouth moved a few times, obviously at a loss for words. "I-I-" 

  


"Let's play!" Kawai said, grabbing a seat across from Shindou. "I'll crush you!"

  


The other customers were quiet. "Kawai-san... he's really good," Saga said.

  


"Yes, but I bet he can't tie me when I'm trying to beat him, can he?" Kawai asked, slapping down three stones and smiling.

  


"Huh?" Shindou said in confusion.

  


Waya noticed a copy of Weekly Go laying conveniently on the counter, rolled it up, and walked over to Shindou.

  


/_Thwap!/_

  


"OW!" Shindou whined, turning to glare at Waya. "Whaddya do that for?"

  


"Because pain seems to be the only way to get anything into your thick skull. You're going to force a tie. Pros can force a tie every time against a lesser player," Waya explained. "Kawai-san is going to try to beat you."

  


"Why would I want to force a tie?" Shindou wondered. 

  


"Because without komi, a tie can happen. It shows a pro's skill, and is a good test to show how good you are at estimating territory," the master explained to the clueless insei."Usually you do it without the other person being aware of what you're doing, but Kawai has challenged you."

  


"You beat Saga-san at three stone, so I'll play you at that," Kawai said. He gave Shindou a smile which made Waya swallow. "And when I win, you're going to buy everyone here coffee as an apology!"

  


Shindou was still smoothing his hair down. "When I tie you, you're taking me and my friend out for ramen!" Shindou shot back.

  


"Done! But I think you'll be buying sixty cups of coffee!"

  


Shindou's hand dug into the go ke, and he pulled out a clamshell stone before slamming it down with a resounding /Pa-chi!/ 

  


His eyes were sharp and focus, but for the first time since Waya had met him, he seemed to be having fun as he played Go. "I eat a lot!" he warned.

  


*****

  


The Young Lion's Tournament finally came in May. It was one of Amano's favorite tournaments to cover, but this year it presented a difficulty. Part of a reporter's job was to come up with a fresh angle to tell a story, but all he could think about was the inevitable outcome.

  


"I suppose Touya Akira is going to win again," Amano said to himself softly. Throwing Touya 3-dan in with the lower dans and insei was like putting a piranha in a fish tank full of goldfish. The result was a foregone conclusion.

  


His wracked his brain, trying to think of a good angle aside from "Touya Akira Creams Opponents" before speaking to his photographer with a bit of resignation. "Make sure you get some good shots of his opening hands this time. We need pictures for that father/son series."

  


"I think your story might be somewhere else," Shinoda said, coming up from Amano's side.

  


Amano jumped a bit before smiling at Shinoda. The insei master had the knack for appearing out of nowhere and moving as quietly as a cat, two things that thoroughly disconcerted other people. Still, he radiated such serenity that made it so others couldn't hold the surprises he caused them against him. There wasn't a malicious bone in his body. 

  


"What do you mean?" Amano said, curious to hear the man's insights. Shinoda had been watching the insei for years, and what he didn't know about the Go world wasn't worth knowing.

  


Shinoda looked over at where the insei were. "I think... your story is over there."

  


Amano blinked a bit. "About the ones who'll make it to the third round? I suppose I can take that angle, do kind of a preview for the pro exams..." he mused. 

  


"Maybe," Shinoda said. "We've got some promising young insei," he said.

  


"Care to give any names?" Amano asked curiously. It was rare for Shinoda to say anything about the insei until the pro exams - if one had caught his eyes already....

Shinoda just gave him a zen-like smile. "I'm sure you'll just need to watch," he answered, before wandering back to his group. 

  


Amano watched him go, his curiosity peeked. _/So there's a special insei this year... one that is probably better than Ochi-kun and Isumi-kun, if Shinoda is already talking about them..../_

  


Ochi and Isumi were both good players, bright hopes for the Go world, but Amano knew that they weren't going to blossom for a while yet. While both had turned in respectable records for their first years as pros, they just didn't have the flare that...

  


_/Think of the devil, and he appeared,/_ Amano thought in amusement. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a figure moving through the pros, and he pulled out his notebook. 

  


Touya Akira had arrived.

  


Touya Akira was dressed in khakis and a blue polo shirt, clothes that were extremely casual for him. The teenager finally found a place to lean against one of the walls in the corner, his eyes slightly downcast as he appeared to be lost in thought. While the other pros were talking and laughing, around Touya they had formed an isolating space. Amano had noticed it in the past, but he wondered about it now. Many of the pros cast wary glances at the 15 year old, and Amano wondered how Touya was able to just stand there, completely oblivious to the waves of dislike that were rolling at him.

  


And he was about to make it worse, by singling him out, but he had to do his job. "Touya-kun! Can I talk to you quickly?" he asked.

  


Touya smoothly raised his head, and Amano was stunned - not for the first time - by the power of the teenager's eyes. He knew that Touya Kouyo had the same kind of eyes, but it was intimidating to see them on someone young enough to be his own son. The intensity that vibrated around Touya Akira was almost tangible.

Then he smiled, and all thoughts of intimidation vanished. Touya's smile was sweet and shy, and Amano knew several of the women who worked for the Institute had crushes on Touya. "Sure thing, Amano-san," Touya said, his soft-spoken voice managing to pierce through the conversations around them as he made his way over.

  


Amano had interviewed Touya countless times, and was always struck by how shy he was when not around a goban. He dodged questions about his personal life, and the one time Amano had asked if he had any girlfriends, Touya had turned the shade of a tomato. "I just need to ask you your predictions for the tournament, since you won last year."

  


Touya didn't answer immediately, but instead was quiet. It was another sign of how well-schooled he was; he always thought before replying to even the simplest questions. "You can never predict a tournament. Someone may be having a really good or really bad day, or there may just happen to be a pairing against a player whom someone is weak against."

  


Diplomatic as always, Amano thought. "Do you have anyone you think is a strong rival?"

  


"Everyone is a rival, Amano-san," Touya said. "Everyone has different strengths and weaknesses, but that's the challenge of it."

  


"You haven't lost since Kurata-san defeated you. You're on the verge of entering the Honinbou League now, and none of the other contestants are - what's the challenge here?"

  


"Every game starts with the first stone. Record means nothing, ranking means nothing," Touya said, and his smile tightened a bit. "If you'll excuse me, Ashiwara-san just arrived, and I needed to talk to him." He bowed slightly and took off.

  


Amano had great skill at reading people, and though Touya Akira was mysterious, he had a good idea what was bothering him. There really wouldn't be a challenge at this tournament, and winning constantly without any competition was tiring in its own way. Being a genius was a lonely road, and the hatred the other pros had for him would burden even the most insensitive souls.

  
  


****

  


It was ten minutes until the tournament began, and Shindou Hikaru still hadn't shown up.

  


"No one knows where he is?" Shinoda asked the other insei.

  


Waya looked at Honda and shrugged. "He's always late, and has the sense of direction of a wombat," Waya said. "He's probably-"

  


"WHAT did you just say?" an indignant voice roared in Waya's right ear, and he flinched away, not surprised that Shindou had crept up on him.

  


"I said you could get lost trying to get into a paper bag!" Waya said, turning to his friend. "Geez, you cut it a bit close, didn't you?"

  


Shindou looked down at his feet. "I got off a station too early and had a long walk," he muttered. 

  


Waya and Fuku started to laugh, and Honda hid a smile behind his face. Nase, though, gave him a concerned look. "Are you too tired to play?" she wanted to know.

  


"I'm always ready to play," he said seriously, straightening his shirt. 

  


"Good, because you'll be playing Mashiba in the first round," Waya said. The others made faces at the name. "You have to beat him."

  


"You don't like him?" Shindou asked curiously.

  


"He's rude," Nase sniffed. "I'm playing Isumi, and if I win, I'll see you next round!" she said, making a "V" with her fingers. 

  


"Good luck!" Shindou said. 

  


"If you had been here earlier, I would have introduced you, but now Isumi's over with the pros," Waya said irritably. "He was an insei last year."

  


"I know that! You talk about him all the time!" Shindou said. He scanned the crowd of pros. "Which one is Mashiba?"

  


"The one with orange hair," Waya said, "and bad taste in clothing."

  


"Short or tall?"

  


Waya blinked as he regarded the pros. Two of them fit the rough description he had given: Ochi and Mashiba. "It's the tall one. The shorter one is Ochi, and he's even more irritating."

  


Honda rolled his eyes. "You won't see him until the third round, providing you both win your way there. But it's rare for an insei to get past the second round. I bet Ochi will, since he did last year."

  


"Did you guys memorize the schedule?"

  


The other two exchanged looks, not wanting to admit they had tracked down what Shindou's path would be. "We memorize our friends'," Waya said. "Since you have no clue who you'll be playing..."

  


"I do, too! I play Mashiba the first round, Isumi the second round, Ochi the third..." Shindou faltered.

  


"That's not right. It depends who wins. We were making bets - wanting to see when each of us would go up against Touya Akira."

  


Honda shivered at the name. "I don't see him till third round this year, if I win that far."

  


"I have him first round," Fuku said gloomily. "I've played him before," he said, "and I don't think this is going to go any better."

  


Shindou looked at them curiously. "Well, it's not determined he'll get that far, right?"

  


All of the insei just stared at him. "Shindou... we're talking about TOUYA AKIRA," Honda said, stressing his name.

  


"No one wins all the time," Shindou replied softly. "Anyway -"

  


"Quiet, please. We will now commence the tenth annual Young Lion's Tournament," a voice said, coming over the speakers. "If you will please take your seats."

  


The insei looked at each other, exchanging nervous grins, and Waya watched as Shindou moved toward where Mashiba was sitting. He turned to give Shindou a final thumbs up, but it was too late. Shindou had turned his back to him.

  


Waya wondered why a chill went down his spine.

  


END PART TWO


	4. Chapter 3: Heaven on Their Minds

Aishuu Offers:  
  
Brightly Burning  
  
mbsilvana@yahoo.com  
  
~ A Hikaru no Go Alternate Universe ~  
  
Disclaimers: Hotta and Obata. Shonen Jump. Not Mine.  
  
Note: Thanks to Jander for his patience, and Ami for the beta! Also thanks to everyone who reviewed - they kept this moving, honestly.  
  
**********  
  
Chapter Three: Heaven on Their Minds  
  
**********  
  
Mashiba looked over at the insei who had taken the seat across from him, trying to hide his nerves. Last year he had been humiliated by Isumi, his rival, and this year he was determined to avenge that loss — which meant defeating the insei to play Isumi in the next round. However, he'd unfortunately been matched against the top-ranked insei, and Mashiba was a bit uneasy. Every year a few of the insei won the first round, and he knew that Shindou Hikaru might be skilled enough to pull it off.  
  
Mashiba recognized he wasn't one of the more gifted pros. He had just managed to earn his 2-dan ranking, and most of the games he won were more through luck than pure skill. He had talent, of course, but he didn't shine the way Isumi did.  
  
God, he hated Isumi.  
  
Still, the insei who sat across from him had to be dealt with first, and he had, of course, heard that the top insei hadn't been defeated in months. "You're Shindou?" he asked. He cupped his hands around the basket holding the white stones. The only advantage given to insei was that the games were even, and they were given black.  
  
"Yes," the other said, shifting in his seat.   
  
"Have you ever played in a formal tournament?" Mashiba asked politely.  
  
"No," the other answered. He was studying the goban, rather than Mashiba's face, and that irritated the pro.  
  
"Well, don't let me intimidate you. I was an insei until two years ago, and just because you have no experience doesn't mean you shouldn't play your best." Mashiba smiled in mock consolation.   
  
"You won't," Shindou replied, and finally looked up.   
  
Mashiba shuddered inside. /Those eyes remind me of someone.../  
  
He shook himself from his trance, trying not to give into the feeling that Shindou was in complete control of the game before it had even begun.  
  
"Begin!" The announcer called, and the buzzer sounded.  
  
Mashiba started the timer to begin the game, and Shindou placed the first stone firmly next to the upper right hoshi. The board rung with his surety, and Mashiba responded by taking the upper left star, his fingers moving awkwardly instead of the usual grace of a pro.   
  
/Calm down,/ he told himself. /You're the pro, he's the insei!/   
  
Shindou quickly took the lower left star, barely taking five seconds before hitting his clock. Mashiba forced himself to take a calming breath, then played below the lower right hoshi, drawing the lines.  
  
/Pachi!/ Shindou wasn't even concerned, playing in the upper right again.  
  
/Pachi!/ Mashiba invaded the right.  
  
/Pachi!/ Shindou made a move next to the lower left star.  
  
/Pachi! Pachi! Pachi!! /  
  
Mashiba felt sweat form on his brow as battles began to spread across the board. A particularly fierce battle in the upper right cost him a stone, but that was acceptable; the game was about territory, not pieces.  
  
Something about this game was familiar - not in the game itself, but how it was played. There was an intensity, as though each move had the weight of the world behind it, and Shindou was reading more deeply than Mashiba could ever hope to. Nervously, Mashiba looked at Shindou's face for the first time since the game started, and suddenly he realized exactly who the insei reminded him of.   
  
Shindou's face was intent on the game, slivers of a brilliant green eyes from under dark lashes. His hands moved gracefully to lay a stone that seemed wasted, but as Shindou confidently left it on the 3-8 spot, Mashiba knew Shindou was the one driving the game. He was unaware of anything except the world created on the goban, and Mashiba knew who Shindou felt like.  
  
/Kuwabara Honinbou..../  
  
That same intensity, that same level of mastery as the highest ranking pro Mashiba had ever played — and the same assurance that the win was going to belong to him.  
  
/No!/ Mashiba's mind screamed, trying to keep from being overwhelmed by that ridiculous thought, but it was too late. Mashiba had intended on intimidating his opponent and forcing him to resign or mess up, but it was the opposite that had happened.  
  
He lost very badly, unable to think of anything except getting the hell away from the kid.   
  
****  
  
There was something about watching Touya Akira play that was eerily reminiscent of his father... yet at the same time, no one would dare call the boy a "copy." It was the intensity, Amano had realized after watching Akira play for the fifth time. Father and son played with the same drive, the same surety. Both were utterly ruthless.   
  
Perhaps that was why Touya Akira rarely played a Agood" game of Go. Amano was still amazed at the boy's prowess, and knew that as soon as he managed to complete his preliminaries, he would be fighting the top-ranked pros... and win. Touya Akira would outshine his father, someday. But there was an emptiness in the boy's game, and the shapes he won with were rarely pleasing. Seeing Akira totally destroy his opponent's forms was impressive, but to Amano, a good Go game wasn't about dominance, but a meeting of minds. Akira always left those who played him hating him, and that wasn't what Go was supposed to be about. No one respected Akira — they feared him.   
  
Across from him was Fuku Yuuta, who had been an insei for two years now. Fuku's moves came rapidly, one after another, as he played more on instinct than design. Touya, though, was completely unperturbed by the rapid play, playing at a calm, steady pace. Fuku was a good player, and getting better, but Amano knew that the normally cheerful boy was completely outclassed.   
  
Amano winced as Akira lay a move which effectively split Fuku's territory in half. It was too painful to watch. He turned away, knowing the inevitable outcome without having to witness it.   
  
"Did you know that Kuwabara Honibou was my sensei?" a voice said from his shoulder. Amano tried not to jump out of his skin. It was Shinoda, again, moving like a shadow.  
  
"I didn't know.." he said, wondering where Shinoda was leading. Shinoda always had a point to whatever he said, but figuring out his meaning was usually like trying to open a puzzle box.  
  
"One of his favorite things to tell me was, 'Go is a two player game.'" Shinoda looked over to where Akira was playing, watching him with a sad expression. "It's made me think a lot, as I train the insei.   
  
"What happens when you don't have another player who can match you? Some of them aren't as good as others, but all have their strengths and weaknesses. Fuku consistently beats Waya, who is one of the top students, because Waya doesn't like speed Go. Their games are fun to watch, because Waya is always trying to finally take that win, and Fuku takes strength in knowing he can play up to the level of someone who will likely pass the pro exams this year."  
  
"I was thinking about that myself," Amano admitted. "Touya Akira... there's no one there for him."  
  
"It makes you wonder if he'll burn out." Shinoda's words hung in the air between them, and Amano lowered his head. It was something that had been preying on his mind, an idea that he hadn't wanted to consider.   
  
"Those who burn brightest... burn half as long," Amano said softly. "There's no fuel to feed him, nothing to keep him going. How interesting can it be, to always play games you know you're going to win?"  
  
There was a quiet murmur from Fuku as he bowed his head in resignation. Akira accepted gracefully, and they began to clear the goban together. Fuku didn't appear to be at all upset, merely accepting of his circumstances. He had gone into the game knowing that he was going to lose. The crowd around them broke up, many murmuring words of admiration for Akira's brilliance, and the insei spoke of the relief that they hadn't been the ones matched against him. When the board was cleared, Fuku rose to his feet and went over to a group of insei.  
  
Akira was left alone at the goban, his expression carefully blank. He folded his hands into his lap, and sat with an uncanny stillness, waiting for the next game.  
  
Isolated from the crowd.   
  
Shinoda sighed as he watched. "Fire warms, but it consumes as well. His passion and love for the game entices, but it keeps people from getting too close."  
  
"How long can fire exist without fuel to sustain it?" Amano wondered.  
  
Shinoda gave him a slight smile. "Fire warms, Amano. I hope that Akira..." he trailed off, glancing over at a crowd of insei Fuku had just joined.   
  
"Who's over there?" Amano demanded. This was the second time that Shinoda had hinted at an extraordinary insei, and if he meant to imply that there could be someone who could challenge Akira, then Amano wanted to know.   
  
Inside of him, he felt hope for the future of the Go world take root.   
  
/If there was a person who was able to play Touya Akira as an equal, maybe the Hand of God could be achieved./ His hands went to his mustache, stroking it thoughtfully as he realized the possible implications of Touya Akira having an equal.  
  
Shinoda gave him another cryptic smile and started to move away. "Someone who may just be that fuel - if Akira can thaw the ice that surrounds that person."  
  
***  
  
Isumi Shuichirou was the ideal of the Go world. He played well, respected his elders, and seemed to have his feet set on the course to becoming one of the top players in about thirty years.   
  
Isumi thought that that was acceptable. He loved the game, and he knew that if he worked steadily, eventually his Go would improve enough to let him aim for the top. He was confident in his game.  
  
Still, when Waya pulled him aside before the second match, he had slight misgivings. They had lost touch when Isumi had passed the pro exams, edging Waya out for the third spot. Sometimes he wondered if Waya resented him. They had only seen each other a handful of times in the last year, and it had been two months since they had really talked. – it made Isumi sad, especially considering how close they had been as insei.  
  
"Isumi... don't underestimate Shindou," Waya warned. Cat-like eyes regarded him from under brown hair that was still worn too long, but the face was more mature than Isumi remembered, and something about the gravity of Waya's voice said that the insei was trying to say something important without saying too much.  
  
Isumi blinked at his friend curiously. He had been expecting to play Mashiba, and been studying kifu to prepare for a rematch. Mashiba's hatred of him made his life interesting, and he was surprised the pro had lost to an insei. He hadn't really considered the possibility of playing Shindou, though he should have.   
  
"He beat Mashiba - of course I'm not going to underestimate him," Isumi said, offering what he hoped was a gentle smile. Speaking to Waya felt awkward; he had been practically ignoring his friend since becoming a pro, and now Waya's hand on his arm felt unfamiliar, instead of the reassuring presence it had once been.  
  
Waya shook his head, and Isumi recognized the look on his face – the one he only wore when discussing Go or something that really mattered to him. "No... Isumi, Shindou is... Shindou plays shidou-go with me."  
  
Isumi's blood turned into ice at that thought. Shidou-go... where a more skilled player taught another... and to play against /Waya/, whom Isumi had barely defeated for the last pro position...   
  
"I'll keep my guard up," Isumi said after a moment, forcing himself to speak through the haze of shock.  
  
Waya gave him an uncertain smile. "You'll see," he said softly. "Play your best." His hand slipped off Isumi's sleeve as he left to find his own seat. Isumi watched his friend for a moment, still feeling the phantom touch of a boy who had once been his closest friend..  
  
/Times change, Shuichirou,/ he thought to himself. /We leave behind those who cannot walk the same path as us, and if we're lucky, someday we'll meet again./  
  
The thought didn't do much to allay his guilty conscience.  
  
He shook it off, telling himself the best thing he could do was take Waya's advice seriously. He went over to his seat and he settled himself into his seat before searching out Shindou Hikaru.  
  
The boy was talking to a group of his fellow insei, smiling as they teased him. The blonde bangs stood out, and he was waving his hands defensively, obviously on the receiving side of some advice from Nase, who was waving a finger in his face.  
  
/I was one of them last year,/ Isumi thought, wondering why it seemed like so long ago. The pro world didn't foster the kind of friendships he had enjoyed among the insei, and it was harder for the introverted Isumi to socialize. He leaned forward on his elbows, watching them a bit wistfully. He knew most of them, but the distance between them seemed too great to overcome easily.   
  
But the Go in the pro world...  
  
He smiled a bit at the thought of the games he had already played. His own Go had improved immensely - surely Shindou couldn't be that scary. Maybe Waya just wasn't used to dealing with someone who was truly talented...  
  
He drew himself up short, not letting himself fall into that trap of overconfidence. Waya played at Morishita's study group, Isumi chided himself. Of course he knew what good players were like - Shindou had to be something special if Waya felt the need to warn him.  
  
He shivered as Shindou came over to him. Shindou resembled a jock more than a Go player, but Isumi had seen some excellent Go players who didn't even look like they knew how to spell their names.  
  
"Hello," Isumi said. "You're Shindou-kun, right?"  
  
Shindou nodded his head quickly, a jerky motion that more do to with impatience than nervousness. "You're Isumi-san. Waya talks about you sometimes."  
  
"We spent a lot of time together as insei," Isumi said.  
  
"He's a very good friend," Hikaru said, and though Isumi knew the insei intended nothing cruel by it, he felt a bit guilty for abandoning Waya after entering the pro leagues.  
  
Concentrate, he scolded himself. "He is," Isumi said quietly. He touched the stones in his go ke, letting their cool texture sooth him and bring his mind back on track. Shindou didn't seem annoyed at Isumi's distracted response; instead, he took a deep breath and sat with unnatural stillness as they waited for the next game to be announced.  
  
It was strange, because most people fidgeted or twitched or wanted conversation, but Isumi found Shindou's stillness strangely appealing.  
  
"Begin!"  
  
Shindou only took a few seconds to consider before placing a move on the upper left hoshi, to which Isumi replied by taking the lower right star. Shindou obviously had studied his fuseki well, because he moved on to take the third star on the left, leaving Isumi to complete the parallel fuseki by claiming the last star.  
  
It was simple, too simple, as though it had come directly from kifu, but Isumi knew not to underestimate Shindou. /He beat Mashiba, and Waya warned me about him,/ he thought. /There's relatively few tried and true openings - just because he chose a bland one doesn't mean anything./  
  
Shindou was playing his next move, classical and not at all challenging, and Isumi found himself responding in kind. This was like answering tsumego his sensei set forth - the ideal practice problems that rarely worked itself out.   
  
Shindou's next hand came swiftly, and Isumi easily slid into a quickly-placed game. With only forty-five minutes of time on the clock of each of them, they didn't have time to ponder the depth of the moves, something Isumi was regretting. Something about Shindou's style pulled at Isumi's mind, reminding him of a well-traveled path. There was a sense of familiarity to it, like embracing a half-forgotten memory...  
  
Then Shindou played his next move, causing Isumi to hesitate.  
  
Nobi?  
  
What?  
  
He blinked, staring at the board, trying to figure out what the hell was happening.  
  
The nobi Shindou had just played in response to his last hand was a good move, but it wasn't the standard attack. He had been expecting a hane, and had they been playing shidou-go, he would have used the move later to explain that it was outdated.  
  
Yes... Shindou's joseki were old.   
  
Isumi studied it for a moment before laying his counter, knowing that Shindou had lost. Apparently the boy spent too much time studying old kifu and not enough time learning about the modern methods that most players deemed superior.  
  
Why was Waya so scared of him? Isumi wondered, keeping his eye on the game. It was true that Shindou seemed to have all the moves down solidly, but...  
  
Then Shindou went to the center.  
  
Isumi blinked again, and he could feel the seconds ticking as he stared   
  
Shindou still hadn't secured his sides, but was leaping into a battle for the center, something which Isumi immediately recognized. It was a daring move, after so many traditional plays, and Isumi was a bit shocked. How often had he been told, 'Corners, then sides, then center?'  
  
Did Shindou think he could carry it off?  
  
He spared a glance for his opponent, wanting to measure him, and his breath caught. Suddenly he understood why Shindou was causing such a stir among the insei. Bleach blond bangs tumbled over a tanned forehead, but the eyes beneath them were of an experienced player, one who understood the risk he was taking, and knew he could carry off such dangerous play.  
  
Isumi stared at him for a moment, before reaching into a go ke. He had been the strongest insei in his time as Shindou was now, and it was time that someone showed Shindou Hikaru that sometimes strength wasn't measured just but skill - but by determination.  
  
Still, as he placed a capping move to begin the battle for the center, which would ultimately decide the game, Isumi Shuichirou wondered if he wasn't about to be horribly humiliated.   
  
****  
  
Amano looked at the results of the second round, wondering exactly which of the insei he was supposed to be watching, or if the insei Shinoda had his eye on had crashed and burned.   
  
Four insei had defeated pros in the first round. Waya Yoshitaka, Honda Toshinori, Iijima Ryu and Shindou Hikaru. He knew of the first three, who had been insei for a few years now and were likely candidates to pass the pro exams this year, but Shindou was a new name to him.  
  
His instincts told him that Shindou was the insei that Shinoda had been slyly telling him about. A practical unknown, now ranked first among the insei...  
  
And Shindou and Waya had won their second matches as well. Amazingly, Isumi had been eliminated. That was certainly interesting, but there was nothing to do except watch... and perhaps ask another of the insei. Subtly, of course.   
  
"Nase-kun, can I talk to you for a minute?" he asked.  
  
The pretty girl turned to him and gave him a sweet smile. She had been an insei for three years, and was trying to enter the main league, instead of just the women's league. Amano liked what little he had seen of her, always finding her pleasant, but wondered if she would be able to achieve her goal. Entering the main league was hard; she was good, but few women were able to pass the insei exam.  
  
"Can I help you?" she asked.  
  
"Do you have a moment?" Amano queried, even though he knew she did.   
  
Nase had lost her first game against Isumi Shuichirou, which had been expected. Isumi had only been a professional for about two months, but he was considered one of the most promising talents to enter the Go world in a while.  
  
/But Shindou defeated him,/Amano thought, feeling a shiver of premonition run up his spine.  
  
She didn't appear bitter about her defeat, She nodded her head. "What do you need, Amano-san?"  
  
"I wanted to talk to you about the insei who made it into the third round."  
  
Her eyes narrowed slightly and she rested her hand on her waist, cocking her hip just a bit. "You mean you want to know about Shindou," she said.   
  
/Caught like a rat in a trap,/ Amano thought. "Well..."  
  
"It's natural. Shindou tends to attract attention. Have you watched any of his games yet?" she asked curiously.   
  
There was no resentment in her eyes over the attention one of her rivals was receiving, just genuine curiosity, something Amano found refreshing. Wordlessly he shook his head.  
  
"Watching Touya Akira? Can't blame you, but if you get a chance, watch Shindou this game," she told him. She leaned a bit closer to him, dropping her voice. "Watching Shindou is a treat. There's something in his game – it's indescribable. You have to see it to believe it. Course, playing Shindou... that's something totally different."  
  
"Bad?"  
  
She seemed to consider it. "I don't know if I would say bad, but... profound. Like you're dealing with someone who's on another plateau, and doesn't know it yet." Her voice was hushed and solemn, making Amano wonder even more, before she gave him a wink. "Right now the insei betting pool have three to one odds that he and Touya Akira are going to play the final match. You want in?"  
  
"You're kidding!" No matter how good an insei was, there was no way he'd get through the next two rounds. The field was thinning, and right now only the better players were remaining.  
  
"I'm serious as a heart attack,' Nase told him. "Shindou versus Touya... it'll be a game to see."   
  
He raised a hand to straighten his glasses, smiling a bit in amusement. "I'll take that bet. Next game, Shindou is playing Ochi, and we all know what he's like. Good as he may be, Ochi was the best to pass the pro exams in years, with the exception of Touya Akira."  
  
"You're on."  
  
****  
  
Many people described him in similar terms - focused, dedicated, determined. Others who knew him even better would add arrogant and annoying, but no one could deny that Ochi Kousuke was one of the most talented Go players of his generations.  
  
Right now he was an irritable, talented player. He shifted in his seat a few times, trying to make himself more comfortable, but he wasn't having much luck. The seats weren't designed for prolonged sitting, and after two games, Ochi was beginning to feel the strain on his lower back.  
  
He was even more annoyed about his next opponent. He had been looking forward to playing Isumi and getting even for their last game, but it didn't seem like he'd be getting his wish. Amazingly, an insei had knocked Isumi out of the tournament.  
  
Curious, really. Isumi was a good player, and for an insei to beat him, especially one who hadn't been in the school for long was an accomplishment. If the insei was good enough to get into the third round, that meant he was doing about as well as Ochi had been the previous year.  
  
It looked like another rival was coming up.   
  
He saw the insei, Shindou something-or-other, chatting with Waya, waving his hands. Shindou seemed to be a bit over excited about something, because all of the sudden Waya reached out and clouted him upside the head lightly, leaning forward and saying /something/ intense into Shindou's face.   
  
Shindou frowned, clutching his head, and gave Waya a look before turning toward where Ochi was sitting. Waya gave him a push, earning a dirty look from his friend.  
  
Ochi tried not to feel jealous. He had never really made friends while an insei, and he had always assumed it was that his skill had kept the others away. But seeing Shindou, talking easily with Waya, made him wonder.   
  
Had he been wrong? Was it possible to walk to road to the hand of god with company?   
  
Shaking his head, he dismissed such useless thoughts. There was no time for regret, no time for uncertainty. The game was all that mattered.  
  
Shindou finally took the seat across from him. Ochi was surprised at how sharp those unusual green eyes were, how they seemed to look right through him in one quick glance, before returning to something that was less threatening. "Ochi-kun, right? I'm Shindou Hikaru."  
  
"Ochi-2-dan," Ochi said, making it clear where they stood. He may have been only fourteen, and a year Shindou's junior, but he deserved respect.  
  
"That's nice." Shindou seemed completely uninterested in Ochi's credentials, which inflamed the young pro.  
  
"Are you ignoring me?" Ochi asked, his voice growing sharper with anger.  
  
Shindou's attention was focused on the board. "Huh?" he said, glancing up in surprise, before Ochi's question registered. "No, no... I'm just thinking about the next game."  
  
His reply did little to mollify Ochi's temper. /I'm going to crush you,/ Ochi resolved, thinking that thoroughly humiliate Shindou would show the insei that Ochi deserved the respect he had been given. Rudeness was something that he wouldn't tolerate.  
  
The buzzer sounded, and Shindou placed his first stone above the upper right. Ochi recognized the deliberation behind it, recognized that Shindou probably had some kind of plan.  
  
Well, he'd do everything he could to undermine it. There was no such thing as a plan that couldn't be disrupted. His eyes narrowed dangerously as he mirrored the move, a slight smile coming to his lips.  
  
***  
  
Waya wasn't surprised to hear the "tap-tap-tap" of fingers against the bathroom stall as he entered the men's room. He had almost forgotten Ochi's rather peculiar habit.  
  
He'd just lost his third game, but wasn't that too upset, since he'd never heard of an insei making it past the third round - but if Ochi was pounding walls...  
  
"Hey, Ochi! Have fun playing Shindou?" he asked, knowing it was a bit mean to kick the younger boy while he was down, but unable to resist. Ochi was an arrogant pain in the ass, and getting under his skin was worth it. Besides, the Young Lion's Tournament wasn't that big a deal. The prize money was small, and there was hardly any prestige attached to it.  
  
"Shut up!" Ochi howled from inside the stall, his muffled voice echoing through the room strangely. "Leave me alone!"  
  
Waya blinked a bit in surprise. There was genuine pain in the younger boy's voice, and he hadn't meant to sting him quite that badly. He knew winning was important to Ochi, but the game shouldn't have mattered that much. "Ochi... what happened?" he asked, and his voice turned serious. It sounded liked Shindou had pulled something, to get Ochi so wound up.  
  
"Never mind! Go away, Waya!"Waya sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. He'd have to ask someone who had watched the game. Shindou would probably play clueless or be his usual cryptic self.   
  
His answer came during break, when he ran into Amano, a reporter for Go Weekly. The reporter was scribbling in a long, thin journalist's notebook, pausing every now and then to chew on his pen cap.   
  
In all honesty, Waya had been looking for Isumi, whom he assumed had watched some of Shindou's game out of curiousity, since he hadn't seen him at his. But when he heard someone call his name, he turned around to see who _ Amano.  
  
Amano set aside his work to focus his full attention on him, something Waya had never rated before. Amano dealt with professionals, not insei. "Hello, Waya-kun. You played very well today."  
  
"Thank you," Waya replied, feeling a slight flush come to his cheeks. He was proud of his accomplishment, and knowing he could hold his own against pros would be a great boost going into the exams.  
  
Amano seemed a bit hesitant before speaking again. "I'm sorry I didn't watch your game, but I was..."  
  
"Watching Shindou," Waya said flatly. Things came together, and suddenly it made a lot more sense why the reporter was approaching him. His jaw tensed, and he felt a wave of hostility roll through him. It was infuriating to be left in Shindou's shadow, no matter how fascinating he found the other boy.  
  
Waya's understanding didn't catch the perceptive Amano, who was used to dealing with some of the largest egos in the Go world, unaware. The man straightened his glasses, and the uncertainty melted away. "Yes, I was watching Shindou-kun play Ochi-kun," he said.  
  
Waya sighed, running his hands through his hair. "What happened?" he asked, as if he didn't already know.  
  
Amano's face was intent as he started at the scrawlings he had made in his notebook. "Ochi played a good game - he always does. But Shindou..." he trailed off, obviously looking for the right words.  
  
Waya wasn't surprised. He was used to Shindou leaving people at a loss for words. It was one of the reasons Waya wanted to strangle the other boy, when Shindou was in one of those odd moods he fell into.   
  
"Went above him, pulled some new tricks you didn't even consider, and basically smacked Ochi down," Waya said tiredly, before realizing who he was talking to. /Amano-san is a member of the press! He could be quoting you!/ Waya thought in a panic, his eyes darting from side to side as he looked around for an escape before he could say anything else exceedingly stupid.  
  
Amano sighed, recognize the deer-in-the-headlights look for what it was. "Waya-kun, I don't intend any of this to be on the record. I just want to know about him."  
  
"We all do, Amano-san!" Waya blurted out, months of frustration finally bubbling over. "He's a good friend of mine, but every time I hang out with him, I'm left realizing I know absolutely nothing about him! Where did he learn to play? Why is he so driven? Why the hell is he so strong, and why didn't any of us hear of him before?"   
  
"Five more minutes until the next round." Amano checked his watch, before looking up at Waya again. "He's in the semi-finals. If he wins this, he'll be in the final round."  
  
"With Touya Akira," Waya agreed. Neither of them were giving Saeki, good as he was, much hope of defeating the Meijin's heir.  
  
The two froze, the ramifications of what Waya had just said resounding profoundly.  
  
What would happen when Shindou played Touya Akira? Waya's heart beat faster at the very thought. One of the idols would finally fall, and he honestly had no clue which one it would be.  
  
Either way, Touya Akira was in for a rude awakening, and Waya was honest enough with himself to admit he was petty enough to be looking forward to it. If there was one person who could annoy the hell out of him (with the exception of Ochi, whom he doubted was a homo sapien) it was Touya Akira.  
  
It was an old grudge, dating back to the pro preliminaries two years ago, which Touya had cruised through with perfect scores. It was unfair how everyone had expected it and Touya hadn't even come close to stumbling. The way Touya hadn't even seemed stressed about taking the test was annoying as anything, as though his passing was a foregone conclusion. Touya had taken Isumi's place, which had forced the Waya's friend into another year of classes.   
  
Amano's thoughts, though, were of a less personal nature. He was starting to see something new take shape in front of him, to see the future of a stagnated world, and for all his talk, he couldn't quite believe it.  
  
Would there be a new wave, with Shindou and Touya fighting it out? Would players like Waya, who had such determined eyes, follow in their wake, motivated to overtake the two?  
  
Or would Touya sit alone on the throne, isolated forever?  
  
END PART THREE 


	5. Chapter 4: That's Just the Way it is

Aishuu Offers:  
**Brightly Burning**  
A Hikaru no Go Alternate Universe  
Disclaimers: Hotta and Obata. Shonen Jump. Not Mine.

* * *

_Chapter 4: That's Just the Way it is_

Isumi leaned against the wall, carefully taking a sip of the rather terrible tea that had been provided for contestants and observers. It was too strong and the blend was bitter, but right now he needed something to distract him, and the jolt of caffeine was good for his system. The next round was about to start.

Many of the pros who had done poorly left soon after losing, finding no point in remaining. They didn't see any purpose in watching to see who won what was a relatively unimportant tournament. They heard about the insei defeating Ochi, but most dismissed it as a fluke. Ochi had gotten overconfident, and the insei had taken advantage of that. Everyone loses sometimes, after all, sometimes to players with less skill but more desire.

Only those who had played Shindou knew better. The kid was something special. Of them, Isumi and Ochi remained to observe the next game. Mashiba had taken off almost immediately after his humiliating defeat, wanting nothing to do with the strange insei who was too powerful to be real.

Ashiwara Hiroyuki, the only pro who would label Touya Akira a friend, was going to be the next to be pitted against Shindou. Perhaps it was for the best - Ashiwara was a friendly sort who never took on grudges and whose childlike delight in Go was infectious to all who knew him. Isumi, who had lost to Ashiwara in their last oteai game, felt it was like sending in a kitten where a lion was needed. Ashiwara was going to be crushed. He wondered if it would be better to warn him or let him walk in blind.

Watching Ashiwara tease Saeki playfully, he decided that ignorance was indeed bliss. If Ashiwara was allowed to indulge in the unconscious pressure many were starting to put on him to protect the reputation of being a professional, it might throw his game off. Stress was a good thing to keep a person on their toes, but too much was disastrous. Like everything, competition was only healthy in moderate amounts.

He felt, more than heard, someone approaching him from behind. Turning slightly even as he kept his gaze on where Ashiwara was standing, he acknowledged his company.

"What do you think?" Isumi asked without diverting his eyes. Ashiwara had one hand on a rather flustered Saeki's right arm, gesturing grandly with the other. Saeki looked like he wished he was anyplace other than where he was, while Ashiwara was smiling broadly in fellowship.

"Sacrificial lamb," Ochi said, adjusting his glasses as he always did when making a pronouncement. He came to stand by Isumi's side, wearing a look Isumi had never seen on his face. It took a moment for him to place it. _Curiosity._ Ochi was actually curious about someone else. It was a remarkable step in his social development.

"Ashiwara is a solid player," Isumi felt compelled to say. "He actually _likes_ playing Touya Akira."

"He's a glutton for punishment," Ochi replied a bit dryly. "He would probably enjoy being beaten with a stick if it made someone else happy." Was that a sense of humor showing? Isumi couldn't believe it.

Isumi and Ochi didn't get along well. Ochi seemed to harbor a deep-seated resentment that Isumi never quite understood. He'd always considered Ochi a fine player and a good rival, but Ochi disliked Isumi immensely, a fact he wasn't afraid to broadcast despite Isumi's otherwise mass popularity. Talking to Ochi now was decidedly odd, but Isumi decided he preferred it vastly over their usual relationship. Ochi was smart and perceptive, although a bit childish.

"Do you think anyone would ever hurt him?" Isumi asked, smiling a bit. It was impossible to hate Ashiwara, and most people who met him became protective of that charming naivete.

Ochi nodded his agreement, before scanning the room. "Where's Shindou?"

"I think he went to get something to eat with Waya," he said, wishing he'd gone along instead of eating what passed for refreshments. "Since his last game ended early, he had time to go to MacDonald's." The air around them dropped about ten degrees, and Isumi abruptly realized his mistake in referring to the last game. "I think Waya is planning on pumping him for information," he added hastily, hoping to divert another breakdown in communication.

"Hasn't Waya known him for months? You would think he would have asked before," Ochi said tartly, his disapproval for the rest of the human race evident.

"He's tried, repeatedly. Hope springs eternal, I suppose," Isumi said. He glanced over at the clock, noting it was nearly three. The next round was due to start in less than five minutes, and there was no sign of either Shindou or Touya.

Ochi followed Isumi's eyes to the clock. "They're going to be late."

"Not Touya," Isumi said. Touya Akira was extremely punctual, the kind of person a watch could be set by. He had only missed one match in his entire career on the day his father had a heart attack.

"I was talking about Waya and Shindou," Ochi said, adjusting his glasses in annoyance.

"Ah." Isumi couldn't think of anything else to say. If the match started without Shindou, he would lose precious time on his clock. Chances were that his startling rise would be cut off dramatically if he was penalized, since the matches were so short.

He heard the five minute warning gong go off and Isumi looked back over to Saeki and Ashiwara. Saeki managed to pry Ashiwara off to go over to take his assigned place, the relief on his face visible even from fifteen feet away. Ashiwara glanced at the clock, then looked around the room, a bit at a loss.

Of course that was when Touya Akira chose to walk in, wearing an intense expression that sent shivers through Isumi's spine. He was clearly visualizing his next game, and Isumi glanced over at Saeki, who simply looked nonplused. It was better than outright fear or resignation, but Isumi knew Saeki was losing the battle before it even started. His kiai was too scattered, the fighting spirit he needed to play his best already dimmed by the immense pressure.

Ashiwara, completely oblivious to that fact, waved and called cheerfully across the room as Touya took his seat. "Do your best, okay, Saeki-kun? It'd be fun if we played in the finals!"

Isumi had to repress a sigh. The older pro was talking like Saeki actually had a chance of beating Touya. Hope did spring eternal, especially if Ashiwara was around.

* * *

With three minutes to spare, Waya and Shindou made their way into the game room. The organizers cast them both dirty looks, not pleased at having things cut so close. Waya shrank a little inside, feeling properly chastised. Shindou didn't even notice.

Shindou smiled at Nase, who was standing right by the board he would be playing at, before claiming his chair with a casual grace, a slight slump in his posture that was property of all teenage boys taking over as he made himself comfortable. Ashiwara, who was already in place, smiled brilliantly at him.

"Hi, you're Shindou Hikaru, right?" Ashiwara asked in a voice which was just slightly too loud.

Shindou didn't seem offended. "Yup. You're Ashiwara Hiroyuki," he shot back a bit cheekily, his grin nearly as infectious as the smile Ashiwara was wearing. Waya thought it was like a kitten meeting a puppy and deciding instantly they wanted to play.

Ashiwara chuckled, a low, pleasant sound. "I must admit to being surprised that a first year insei made it this far. I think it's been... twenty, thirty years?"

"Since Touya Kouyo," a man Waya didn't recognize contributed.

"Ah, that's right! Sensei did the same." Ashiwara gave Hikaru an appraising look, one which was surprisingly shrewd for someone who lived so merrily. Waya raised his estimation of Ashiwara several notches.

"Sensei?" Shindou echoed. His eyes had narrowed slightly, and the hawk-eyed look of interest was prefatorial.

Ashiwara didn't even notice, his mouth running on without concern for discretion. "Yes, he's my sensei. I started studying with him when I was your age." A hand came up to rest behind his head in embarrassment. "Not that long ago, really," he admitted with the candid honesty of innocence.

Shindou didn't reply, coming to rigid attention when the one-minute warning bell rang. The hunting look had changed into one of intense concentration as he surveyed the board, one which Waya recognized. Shindou had completely tuned out the rest of the world.

"We will now begin the semi-final round of the Young Lions Tournament," a voice announced over the speakers which were set up in the front of the room. "The rules will be the same as in previous rounds. It is requested that the audience remain at least two feet away from the boards."

As people had been weeded out of the tournament, tables had been cleared to create more space for spectators. Some remained to watch friends, while others took a chance to size up their rivals. Touya, of course, was the main attraction since watching him play was like watching a ballet dancer execute a perfect solo en pointe.

The buzzer sounded mechanical, but Shindou quickly grabbed a black stone and slapped it down in a traditional opening to the slight right of the upper hoshi, as he had done against Mashiba. Ashiwara replied by taking the space right below the left hoshi. Shindou again placed a stone outside the next hoshi, leaving Ashiwara to claim the last. It took all of thirty seconds, and Waya recognized the regulation fuseki. It was so old-fashioned. Why was Ashiwara going along with it?

There was a slight frown marring Ashiwara's eyebrows as he looked thoughtfully at the board. The next move was his. He studied the board, took the clock into account, and his body tensed slightly.

_He feels it, too,_ Waya recognized. Of all people, Ashiwara should be familiar with this kind of player, having regularly face both Touyas and Ogata across the board. He wouldn't likely be intimidated, no matter who it was coming from. Perhaps Ashiwara's confidence and experience would manage to finally break Shindou.

He played next to Shindou's last move, and the joseki they began to build was familiar to Waya until Ashiwara jumped out in the center, shattering their pattern. A smile curved Shindou's lips, and Waya could sense he was intrigued. Shindou replied by placing a stone which threatened the significance of Ashiwara's first move.

That was the moment Waya knew Ashiwara was going to lose. Shindou was playing a deeper game, and no matter how Ashiwara replied, Shindou would have a counter ready. It would be painful to watch.

He stepped back from the board, and his space was immediately filled by someone else. Making his way over to the other game, he noted that there were more people around Touya then anywhere else. Thoughtful old men wore impressed looks, commenting to each other softly as Saeki played a move Waya couldn't see. Touya was perfectly composed, replying quickly. A slight sheen of sweat marred Saeki's skin, his teeth worrying his lower lip as he considered his options.

Waya managed to weasel his way close enough to get a glimpse of the game, and inwardly winced in sympathy for his friend. Touya was letting loose a bold attack, and though he saw what seemed to be several weaknesses, he mentally played the game out a bit further and realized that there were several traps ready to spring if Saeki tried to take advantage of anything.

It was another game Waya didn't really want to see. He knew Saeki would replay it later, at Morishita's study group, for the other pros, so there really was no reason to witness the slaughter first-hand.

Which meant he should go back to watching what Shindou was doing. His game against Ashiwara wouldn't be Shindou's game they'd be replaying, he knew with certainty. It was more with a sense of duty then interest that Waya went back to the first game. He saw the place he had abandoned was currently occupied by a girl he didn't recognize.

Waya looked at the girl's uniform as she leaned over to stare at the developing game, even though the slight crease on her forehead indicated she was confused about what was going on. Though the Young Lion's Tournament was open to spectators, few chose to come except family and friends or the truly devote fan. The girl's uniform seemed familiar, though, and he frown as he tried to place it. "Haze Junior High..." he realized after a moment.

This girl was from Shindou's school. He felt his heart begin to beat a bit faster at the chance to find more out about the other insei. It only took him a minute to decide the chance was more important than watching. He made his way through the crowd that was watching his Shindou's game against Ashiwara, and came up to her elbow. "Excuse me?" he said softly. His voice mingled with the other mumbling observers were engaged in, discussing what they thought each player was thinking. "Are you from Haze Junior High?"

The girl jumped a bit at his quiet question, then nodded. "I'm Fujisaki Akari. You are?"

"Waya Yoshitaka. I'm an insei." He turned to the game. "I didn't know Shindou had any friends who played."

"I... I don't. I... I really don't get what's going on." Fujisaki looked up at Waya with concerned amber eyes. "This... this isn't the Hikaru I grew up with." She stared at him, her hands tightening into white fists.

Waya jerked his head towards the exit. "Let's talk, okay?"

She nodded and followed him out into the hallway. "I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't be..."

"No, you're his friend. It's good you're concerned."

She nodded, biting her lower lip. "I never knew he played," Fujisaki said softly.

"How long have you known each other?" Waya asked, wondering. How close was she?

"I grew up next door to him. I never even knew he liked Go... until he quit the soccer team," she told him. She stared at Waya intensely. "Waya-san, Hikaru was our star player, and he just... quit. And the next thing I know, he's taking an insei test. I had no clue what it was but when I looked it up, it meant he had to be good at it. How good is he?" she asked.

"I... none of us know." He sighed a bit, not wanting to say it aloud, but knowing he had to, for Fujisaki's sake. "I think... I think he's a genius."

"How?" she demanded. "His grandfather plays, but Hikaru never spent enough time there to learn, and he never showed any interest in it. Then all the sudden..."

"Shindou said he started playing when he was twelve. He's been playing for over three years, Fujisaki-san..."

"Against who?" she demanded.

Waya blinked. "He... he's spoken of a friend who he played every night, and he played a lot of NetGo...."

Fujisaki seemed taken aback. "His mother would have told me," she said. "But I don't know of anyone."

Waya wondered if Shindou had been lying, but immediately discarded the idea. Shindou might have been secretive, but he was honest. He told the truth, always, though the form might be obscured by his rabid need for privacy.

"He's a touch on the secretive side," Waya said carefully.

She gave a giggle of nearly hysterical laughter. "_Hikaru?_ He's a loudmouth who has no control over what he says. He couldn't keep a secret if he tried - he's always talking to himself and is prone to outbursts."

"Are we talking about the same Hikaru?" Waya asked. "Trying to get something out of him is like pulling teeth." Maybe he saw glimpses of the carefree boy Fujisaki was describing when Shindou was hanging out away from a goban, but he had a hard time picturing him without his secrets entirely. Sometimes they would be talking, Waya would say something innocuous, and Shindou would suddenly clam up.

"Only recently. Only since he started playing Go," Fujisaki said, and her fingers pulled on the fabric of her skirt. "He's not as happy as he was a few months ago. Something is hurting him, and I don't have any idea of how to help."

Hadn't the woman at Dougenzaka said something similar? Waya had noticed the occasional flashes of intense loneliness in Shindou's eyes since becoming aware of that. "But you came, anyway." He felt his heart going out to her. He wished he had a friend as loyal.

"I had to try, but I don't even know what he is doing!" she said in frustration. "It looks like they're just slapping pieces randomly."

Waya couldn't remember a time when he hadn't known how to play Go. He had started when he was too young to really know what was going on, attending games his father played weekly against friends. One of those friends, Yemachi Keigo, had been a former insei and decided it would be fun to teach him. By the time he was eight, he consistently beat everyone in his father's clique, and was enrolled in the insei program. Yemachi had introduced him to his old master, Morishita, and he had never looked back.  
"Would you like to learn?" he offered.

"Hikaru won't teach me. I already asked," she said in frustration, misinterpreting Waya's invitation. "He's just too impatient."

Waya blushed a bit. "No... I meant I could show you. I'm not a pro yet, but I think I could help."

Her entire posture shifted, and he could see her eyes lighten with hope. Suddenly he was aware that Fujisaki Akari was a very pretty girl. "Please? I can't pay you much, but..."

"I'm not a pro," he repeated. "I'd do it as a favor."

She was innocent enough not to question why, and her shoulders lifted as a bit of the weight on them was raised. "I would really, really appreciate that, Waya-san!"

His face was still a bit flushed as he looked back at the tournament room. "How about we go back and I explain what they're doing for you?"

She nodded eagerly, and Waya followed her back. He decided that Shindou had to be some kind of idiot savant, since no matter how good he was at Go, he was too stupid to see a good thing.

* * *

Touya finished up his game rather quickly, forcing Saeki to resign about halfway through. There were polite compliments thrown his way, and he nodded graciously in thanks to those who were offering their congratulations.

Amano watched from a distance, rubbing his notepad with idle fingers. He should go interview Touya right now, but his heart wasn't in it. He wanted to see how the Shindou/Ashiwara game would continue to develop.

Ashiwara was playing well, a strong game that was only to be expected of one of Touya Kouyo's pupils, but watching Shindou play was more intense. He could see the barely contained fire blazing in the way Shindou was manipulating the stones of the board, witness the way he was slowly backing Ashiwara into a corner, cutting off his options.

Shinoda had been right. The story today wasn't about Touya Akira. There was a new wave coming to the Go world, and Amano was privileged to witness the sharp edge of it as it prepared to slam mercilessly into the professionals who might be too complacent to see it coming.

His attention was diverted just long enough for Shindou to play a deciding move. Turning back, he saw Ashiwara look at it in surprise, and then watched as he bowed his head. "I resign," he said. Many people would have fought back for longer, but Ashiwara was experienced enough to recognize an inevitable loss.

The people who had wandered over at the conclusion of the other game stared hard, trying to figure out what had happened. A few of them went to friends who had been watching, demanding explanations for how an insei had managed to win the right to play in the finals.

Amano felt the excitement stirring, and watched as Shindou stretched slowly, trying to work the cramps out of his back before jerking a bit in surprise as he noticed a girl wearing a school uniform standing next to him.

"Akari?" he said, his voice incredulous.

"I came as soon as school let out," she said, clutching a school bag protectively in front of her chest. "I wanted to see what you were doing."

He nodded, before turning back to Ashiwara. "Do you want to discuss the game?" he asked politely.

Ashiwara shook his head. "Go have fun with your friend," he said, looking at the girl compassionately. She was out of place, and his natural kindness managed to quell his desire for becoming a stronger player. "I'll drop by the insei session next week sometime." He bowed respectfully before rising, leaving Shindou surrounded by his peers, many of whom were thumping him on the back and offering congratulations. Nase looked over at Amano with a slight grin on her lips, and he abruptly realized he'd just lost their bet. It wasn't a loss he was disappointed in.

Akari had been pushed back by the crowd, and Amano noted with interest that Waya appeared by her side almost immediately. The insei said something softly to the girl, who rewarded him with a tremulous smile. "Shindou, we're going to go grab some ramen before the finals. We've got until six. Wanna come?"

Never mind that Shindou had nearly been late to this match because of lunch, eaten less than two hours ago. Shindou bounced to his feet eagerly after hastily making sure the goban and go kes were taken care of. "Sure! Sounds great - you treating?"

"Not with the way you eat!" Waya shot back. "If you beat Touya, maybe I'll buy you dinner next Tuesday."

"I'm keeping you to that!" Shindou threatened, smiling widely.

Amano watched as the most of the insei filed out, with Shindou in the middle of the pack, laughing and talking about his last game and what he'd been thinking. "No, the real decider was that keima cut I made. See..." his voice trailed off as he left the room.

It was a conversation Amano wished he could follow. Instead, he found Ashiwara, who was accepting a can of black coffee from a well-meaning friend. "Ashiwara-kun?" Amano said, neatly inserting himself next to the young man with the grace of an experienced reporter. "Can I ask you a few questions?"

It was always touchy, interviewing someone who had just suffered a defeat. Most were still stinging, replaying games in their head as they attempted to see that one move which could have reversed the flow of the tide. Being questioned about it by the press just seemed to rub salt on the wounds. It wasn't Amano's favorite thing to do, but it was necessary to get the whole story.  
Ashiwara wasn't wearing his customary smile, but he was still more polite than anyone else would have been in the same situation. "Sure thing. What do you need?"

"What did you think about the game?" Amano asked, his pencil poised and ready.

The smile that had been missing made its appearance, laden with self irony. "It could have gone better," Ashiwara said. "I knew that Shindou had to be pretty good, coming as far as he did, but I wasn't prepared. I would have researched some of his kifu if I had known what he was like."

Researching kifu? For an insei, at a tournament which had a relatively small purse? "He's that serious a threat?"

"Amano-san, it was like playing Akira-kun. He's not quite on the Meijin's level, but he's playing far above what he should be at his age." Ashiwara looked a bit wistful. "He had the benefit of surprise on his side. I'll see if Shinoda-sensei is willing to share some kifu before Shindou starts playing in the leagues next year."

Ashiwara spoke so matter-of-factly, like it was a given Shindou would pass the insei tests. "You seem confident he's going to qualify to be a pro," Amano said carefully.

"Don't you?" Ashiwara asked in reply.

"I haven't seen him play enough to make a balanced judgement."

Ashiwara rolled his eyes in a rather endearing fashion. "Amano-san, all you need to do is watch one game."

That was true. Amano had unusually good instincts for Go, which was why he was so successful with his job. "It's... best not to make judgements before the pro exams. He might break there under all the expectations."

"You're so diplomatic. Trust me, he'll win, probably passing with the highest score. It wouldn't surprise me if he went undefeated."

"He hasn't lost a game yet that we're aware of. Perfect insei record."

Ashiwara smiled a bit. "He reminds me of someone else I know." His eyes trailed over to Touya, who had another book out and his nose buried in it. No one was around him and he seemed a little more relaxed, his posture not quite as stiff as usual.

"You mean Shindou is the next Touya Akira?" Amano asked eagerly, ready for a good quote.

"Of course not. There's only one Akira-kun," Ashiwara said. A passing pro who overheard murmured something like 'thank god for that.' "Shindou is the first Shindou Hikaru," he continued, as though it explained it all.

"What do you mean by that?" Amano was confused.  
"No two players are exactly alike. Shindou is something to respect, and while he reminds me of Akira, he's different. It's like..." Ashiwara paused, tapping fingers thoughtfully against his face as he tried to figure out a good analogy. "No... that's not quite right... maybe..." He started to look a bit annoyed.

"Fire and ice?" Amano suggested, remembering what Shinoda had told him earlier.

"Hmmm... no. More like wood and oil. Both combust, but their structure is different. They aren't in opposition, but more... complimentary." Ashiwara didn't look happy with that comparison, but was unable to think of anything better. He glanced over his shoulder at Touya again, his expression softening with affection. "It's going to be a good match. I should probably go talk to Akira about the last game."

"Can I ask you not to?" Amano requested.

"Eh?"

Amano tried to phrase it delicately. Most pros would have delighted in the possibility of Touya being blind sided, but Ashiwara had always been close to him and would probably try to protect him. "Since this is only a minor event, I think it'd be more interesting for them both to meet naturally, with no pre-conceived notions."

Ashiwara looked a bit like a landed fish. "But-"

"I think the next game is going to be a good one, but we shouldn't interfere with what's going to happen."

Ashiwara opened his mouth, shut it, then opened it again as he searched for his voice. "Isn't that a bit mean?" he asked finally.

"If I'm right, it's the nicest thing we can do for either of them."

* * *

Their early dinner was a lot of fun, with Shindou in a boisterous mood. He'd eaten three bowls of ramen, despite devouring four hamburgers less than three hours before. Waya, who was working on his second bowl, watched as Shindou snagged a piece of shrimp from Akari's meal deftly. She scowled at him a bit, but he just laughed.

They'd already tried probing Shindou for details on his matches. He'd merely answered vaguely with textbook answers, shrugging off his accomplishment. There was no record of an insei ever making it to the finals, but Shindou was treating it like it was no big deal. 'I'm just playing like I always do,' he had said, unaware of the implications of that.

_If he always plays like that, it means he's always playing like a high-level dan,_ Waya thought. He let his attention move down to his half-filled bowl, frowning intently as though the beef ramen could explain what Shindou's words meant.  
He had known Shindou was holding back on them. He had sensed that undercurrent of power, that feel of someone heavy with the weight of experience leaning against his own skills. He just hadn't realized the real depth.

Defeating Ochi and Isumi was impressive, but it was the last game that had really gotten Waya's attention. Ashiwara was a seasoned pro, with four years of experience under his belt and due to rise to fifth dan soon. It was common knowledge that he was a core member of the Touya study group, and played against the best on a regular basis. He wasn't the type who would be flustered against a strong opponent, and since he played Touya Akira regularly, he wasn't the type who would mistake youth for inexperience.

On meeting Shindou, the thought had crossed Waya's mind more than once that he might be meeting Sai at last. The legendary NetGo player had always been secretive, never answering any messages. He knew more than one pro had issued personal invitations to the Institute for a study session or a game, but Sai had maintained his silence.

Except to Waya.

Back when Sai had first appeared, Waya had challenged him without knowing what he was getting into. He had been twelve and cocky, and getting blown out of the water by a complete stranger had done wonders for his motivation. Especially since Sai had seen fit to rub it in.

_"I'm strong, aren't I?"_

The words still echoed in his head years later. As far as he knew, he was the only one Sai had ever deigned to reply to. It hadn't been a profound conversation, either, but one which infuriated him enough to start taking Go more seriously. He was privately amused at people assigning Sai a sage personality, like Touya Kouyo's, since he knew better. Sai was a brat.

Shindou, of course, fit his mental profile of the NetGo master better than anyone. He had mad skills, his style resembled Shusaku's, and he was completely clueless about the courtesies expected of strong Go players.

That puzzle didn't fit perfectly, though. As much as he wanted to believe that Shindou was Sai, he couldn't. Sai's play was subtly different, on the level of the Meijin's. Shindou was good, but there were still things he needed to improve on, particularly his yose skills. He played fast and hard, lacking the patience which Sai was legendary for.

Their styles were still close enough to provoke comparison. Waya had even asked, once, if Shindou knew Sai.

Shindou had shaken his head slowly in rejection of the idea. "I don't think anyone knew Sai," he said

Waya had deflated at that, and accepted the answer. Shindou didn't lie. He might not always tell the complete truth, but he was as honest as the day was long.

Now he was forced to reevaluate his previous rejection of the idea. Sai had vanished about a month before Shindou had appeared as an insei, and hadn't been seen since. Rumors were flying over the net rampantly. Sai had gotten tired, Sai was traveling and didn't have net access, Sai had died. Since no one actually knew who he was, the field was wide open for speculation. The timing was too perfect for Waya to completely ignore. Perhaps Sai had gotten tired of playing amateurs and decided to seek entry into a world that would have players strong enough to challenge him.

"Waya?" A voice prodded him out of his revery, and he looked up with a bit of embarrassment for being caught daydreaming.

"Um, sorry?" he said, looking at Iijima.

Iijima gave him a rather annoyed look. "We're leaving now."

Waya blinked as he realized everyone else was standing up, looking at him with amusement, empathy or impatience. "Oh! Sorry!" He dug into his wallet for money to toss on the table to cover his bill. Nase just laughed, while Fujisaki smiled a touch shyly from where she was standing. She had been a bit lost among all the Go conversation, but Waya had noticed how she seemed content to just sit and watch Shindou.

The group made their way back to the tournament site, their mood becoming more solemn. A few significant looks were exchanged between the insei as they realized that the match they were about to see was an important one. Shindou Hikaru versus Touya Akira - who would win?

Waya watched as Shindou bounded up the steps, taking them two at a time, his energy restored from the mass intake of calories. Waya moved himself through the crowd, pushing between where Honda was standing to Shindou's right. "Shindou," he said, trying to get his friend's attention.

"Yeah?" Shindou asked as he kept moving through the glass doors, ignoring the looks their procession was attracting.

"Shindou, Touya Akira is good." He couldn't think of any other way to bring this up. "He's way beyond a low-level dan, even if that's what his rank is."

Shindou waved a dismissive hand. "He'll be a good challenge. If I'm not good enough to win, I'll just work harder so I beat him next time."

Shindou clearly didn't get it. Iijima rubbed the bridge of his nose with annoyance before challenging Shindou, beating Waya to the punch. "Shindou, he's the son of the Meijin. If you can't earn his respect now, you'll never have it."

That look, the one of intense hunger that Waya had noted right before his game with Ashiwara, passed through the green eyes quickly before being reigned in. "What happens, happens," Shindou said airily.

They arrived in the room finally, and the crowd was thicker than it had been all day. The game, scheduled to start at six, would be well attended by Touya's fans who rarely had a chance to see him play in person. By now rumors of an insei being in the final round were well-circulated, and Waya watched as people turned to stare at their little group.

"That's him," someone whispered loudly.

"The kid with glasses?"

"No, the one with bleached hair," was the answer.

"Looks like a punk."

Shindou just ignored them, instead turning to his friends. "I've got to go," he said. He pressed a light hand to Fujisaki's arm. "You don't have to stay."

Her face tightened. "I want to."

"You have no clue what I'm doing!" Shindou exclaimed with exasperation.

"I want to support you!" she retorted stubbornly.

"Don't be silly, Akari," he replied. "You should go home and study or something. This will be really boring."

"Silly? Is-"

Waya decided to intervene before the two descended to childish insults. "It's fine, Shindou. I'll explain things to her," he said, offering her a bright smile. Fujisaki gave him a grateful look before sticking her tongue out at Shindou.

Shindou just sighed. "Fine, fine. If it makes you happy."

"It does, thank you!" Fujisaki said, crossing her arms. Then the hostility faded, and she bit her lip. "Um, can I wish you good luck?"

Shindou's expression melted into a warm smile. "You can, but luck has nothing to do with this." He squeezed her arm reassuringly. "Thanks for being here." He stepped away, and then went over to the table where Touya Akira sat, waiting for the next game to start.

Half the room held there breath, waiting to see what would happen. They were disappointed. It wasn't the legendary meeting Waya had been hoping for. Instead, there was no recognition on either side that they were about to face an opponent truly worthy of their skills. Shindou merely plopped onto his stool and started to check his go ke, while Touya spared him a look before returning to his book.

Waya wanted to go over there and shake them both. People had been waiting all day for this, and they couldn't even be troubled to say hello?

The five minute warning came, and Touya shut his book, putting it into his bag before shoving it under the chair. He placed his hands on either side of the board, waiting for the game to begin.

Shindou finished with the go ke, then looked over at his opponent. "You're Touya Akira, right?"

Akira nodded. "It's nice to meet you. It's very impressive that you've made it this far as an insei."

Waya winced at how condescending Touya was being. Really, he was so _rude_.

Shindou just smiled a bit. "It's impressive when anyone makes it to a final round." It was a subtle retort which hit Touya's arrogance hard, but Waya thought it was unintentional. Shindou was being sincere like always.

Touya wasn't sure how to reply, Waya saw. He wasn't sure if Shindou was another person who was being cruel to him, or if it was genuine. "Thanks," he said, evidently deciding to take it as a compliment. Conversation died between them, but there was no awkwardness. Both were staring intently at the bored, planning on what they were going to do.

Waya took Fujisaki by the shoulder and guided her to a place where they could see. Most people parted willingly before them, recognizing them as some of Shindou's friends and conceding the right for a better spot, but one man sniffed in offense. "Kids these days," he muttered resentful, earning a blush of embarrassment from Fujisaki. Waya just ignored it.

To his relief, Isumi was right in the front, and inched over easily to give them space. "Hello, Waya. Who's your friend?" he asked curiously.

"This is Fujisaki Akari, one of Shindou's classmates. Fujisaki-san, Isumi-san is one of my friends. He's a professional," Waya said to introduce them.

They bowed politely to each other, exchanging murmurs of greeting. Waya moved subtly so Fujisaki stood protected from the press of the audience between them. "I'm going to be explaining what's happening. She's not very familiar with the game yet."

Isumi nodded, arching an eyebrow curiously at Waya. "That's kind of you."

Waya tried to keep the blood from rushing to his cheeks. Thankfully he was saved by the one minute warning bell. "Look, the game's about to begin!" he said hastily.

Shindou and Touya both removed the covers to the go kes as the announcer began an introduction.

"Welcome to the final round of the Tenth Annual Young Lion's Tournament," the announcer started. "Competing are Touya Akira 3-dan and Insei Shindou Hikaru. The rules will be the same as previous rounds. As an insei, Shindou will be playing black. It is an even game with komi set at 5.5 moku." The announcer droned on about time and byoyomi. "The winner of this game will receive a 200,000 yen purse. When the bell rings, the game with begin."

The crowd tensed as the mechanical chime filled the room, and the game began.

They moved like a person and his reflection in a mirror, and Waya couldn't judge which was the original. In unison, they leaned forward over the board, lowering their bodies the exact same degree. Their voices came in perfect sync, Shindou was more informal in his greeting, speaking a touch more roughly, but it blended perfectly with Touya's soft tones.

Then Shindou made the first move.

* * *

kiai: Fighting spirit. A Japanese concept that doesn't translate well.

Credit to Sailor Mac, as always, and Jander. 


	6. Chapter 5: Let This Be Enough

Aishuu Offers:  
**Brightly Burning**  
A Hikaru no Go Alternate Universe  
Disclaimers: Hotta and Obata. Shonen Jump. Not Mine.

* * *

_Chapter 5: Let This Be Enough  
_  
Akari shifted on her feet, her legs a bit tired and her mind overwhelmed with information. She had been standing far too long today and would have killed to have a place to sit down and rest. However it seemed that to watch a Go game, you had to squeeze in a painfully small space around a relatively small board as others contributed their opinions. The press of the crowd made her a bit claustrophobic and raised the heat in the room to an uncomfortable level.

Waya had been amazingly kind to her today. She didn't know what she would have done without his consideration, and she didn't want to impose anymore than she already had. Waya was carefully watching what Hikaru and the other player were doing, and he seemed to understand what was happening.

Akari wished she did. She remembered when she had heard about Hikaru's quitting soccer to become an Insei, whatever that was. It had come completely out of the blue, and she had no idea how to react.

He had pushed aside her concern. "I want to do something different," he had said, giving her a slight smile when she confronted him about the abrupt change. "We're already done with our games, so now's as good a time as any."

"But if you don't practice, how do you expect to play in high school?" she had asked, worried. Hikaru wasn't much of a student, but some schools would bend rules for a strong striker. If he dropped sports, she didn't know how he would fare. She might have understood if he gave up to study for entrance exams, but he had picked up something that took nearly as much time.

He had shrugged. "This is something that's important to me." For a second, his face had been serious in a way that transformed his face from her beloved friend into that of someone she didn't know. She didn't recognize the young man who stood next to her, with a stubborn set to his mouth and green eyes that seemed to be looking through her. Someone older and beyond her reach. Then the moment had fled, and she was left staring at the boy she'd known since childhood.

"But... Go? Isn't that an old man's game?" She had tried to keep any hint of insult out of her voice. Hikaru, with his bleached hair and casual style, didn't look at all like the men she'd seen in the window of the local Go salon.

Hikaru's eyes had flashed, and for a second she wondered if he was really himself. "Go is an ancient game. It's survived over 1,000 years for a reason." He had been proud of the game.

"I didn't know you _liked_ Go! You don't even play with your grandfather..." she had cut herself off as a rather scary thought occurred to her. "Is that it? Is your grandfather okay?"

"He's fine," Hikaru had replied, blinking slowly as he tried to follow her train of thought. "Why?"

"I... I just thought you might..." She had struggled to find the words.

Hikaru wasn't that bright, but he managed to catch on. "Ah! No, no." He had waved his hands defensively in front of his chest. "I'm not doing it because of him." Akari, ever-perceptive toward Hikaru, caught the slight hitch in his voice.

"Then why?" she had asked, touching his elbow gently.

"Just because," he had said, before turning away. "I'm going to go get some ramen. Wanna come?"

It didn't matter how much she pried, nagged or pestered after that. He had just set his jaw and ignore her, or responded flippantly about "growing up."

His mother had been worried since she didn't know the first thing about Go. She had obliged when Hikaru had insisted on taking some kind of test to join a class of some sort, but Akari knew she understood about as little as she did about the world Hikaru was beginning to inhabit.

Her thoughts were interrupted when the crowd started to murmur after Hikaru played his fourth turn. Didn't Waya call it a hand when he was explaining earlier? Whatever Hikaru did, it was apparently something he shouldn't have, because everyone seemed upset or interested. Since she was standing between Waya and Isumi, she was able to listen to what they were saying.

"Honinbou Shuusaku's kosumi," Waya whispered, looking at Isumi like that was important. "He likes using it, but Touya is going to take him apart..." he said. "Dammit. I was hoping Shindou would be a rival for Touya, but maybe it's a few years too soon."

Isumi inched forward, studying the board. "I don't know about that... it's so rarely used... maybe he has something else planned?"

She wanted to ask what they were talking about. Who was Honinbou Shusaku? What was a kosumi? Waya's face was alive with interest, but all she saw were white and black stones on a board in no particular pattern she could discern. There were hardly any down, so what difference could one move make at this stage?

Waya abruptly remembered her present, because he offered her a little smile. "Shindou just played a move that, while popular a hundred years ago, isn't used much now. It was used by a man named Honinbou Shuusaku quite often as part of his opening fuseki."

"Honinbou Shuusaku was probably the best player of his era, and we all study his kifu," Isumi chimed in. "Kifu - that's the written record. Shindou plays a bit like him," he added a touch hastily for her benefit.

It did help her understand a bit but she was still a fish out of water. "He probably looked a lot at those... kifu... then."

"Most likely," Waya agreed. He was frowning thoughtfully as he looked at the board. "See, nowadays there's a 5.5 komi... um, handicap... placed on black. Since Shindou has black, he's got to beat Touya by six moku to win."

"That doesn't sound fair!" From what she'd gathered from overheard comments, Touya was a very good player. Most people didn't give Hikaru any chance of winning. Even though she had no clue what he was doing, he still was her best friend and she wanted him to do well.

"It's still harder to win with white. There's talk of adjusting to komi again to make the games more even," Waya said.

Akari could have cared less. Right now, she was looking at Hikaru's face and seeing nothing but an intense concentration she hadn't known him capable of until today. The boy sitting across from Hikaru was wearing a thoughtful look as he put another white stone down. Hikaru's hands seemed to be flying as he made a move before hitting the time clock. The boy - wasn't his name Touya- took only a few moments longer. She wished she knew what they were doing. She wondered where the cheerful boy who had pulled her ponytails had gone.

She wrapped her arms around herself, wondering why she felt so cold all of the sudden.

* * *

Touya Akira's first memory was of a goban scattered with stones. He couldn't recall the game that had been on display, or even if white or black won, but he remembered seeing the stones and finding the "pa-chi!" they made as they hit the kaya utterly entrancing. He was definitely his father's son.

His Go wasn't his life, but life was in his Go. It was his passion, and his determination to win was the focus of his existence. Someday he would play his father and become the strongest Go player there was. He knew he wasn't there yet, but there weren't many who could threaten him.

It wasn't overconfidence that made him believe that he'd have a title by the time he was twenty. He simply knew his abilities and understood that most people were afraid to face him. It had been exciting first, to be someone so respected, but that had faded quickly into a kind of resignation. With no one who could play on his level, he had been reduced to playing nearly mind-numbing games that were merely ciphers on a chart. He was just marking time until he could play people like his father or Ogata. Everything came in time, and he had to be patient and wait his turn.

Now, as he sat staring at the board, he felt that feeling of enchantment that he'd been missing lately. He always played well, but like most people, he responded better to a challenge - and this boy was a challenge.

Shindou Hikaru was magnificent, the ideal composite of what a Go player should be. He had good instincts, his reading ability rivaled that of anyone Akira had every played, and his fine technique seemed unstoppable. Maybe the real key was his knowledge of life and death, those moments when a game could be made or lost in a single move.

Akira had thought he had Shindou cornered a few times, but he managed to pull out a few tricks that Akira had never even thought of. His style was different than Akira's hard-hitting Go subtly, full of surprising plays and manipulation. Akira felt his heart rate quicken as Shindou laid a tesuji he hadn't realized existed.

He noted, with rising interest, how Shindou seemed perfectly relaxed, his face and eyes intent on the game. There was no fidgeting, no indication of any kind of mental wandering. Part of Go involved understanding the mental state of your opponent, but Shindou was like a stone wall, strong and cold. There was no personality in his Go. Instead there was a mechanical feel in his style, like he was playing a computer instead of a flesh-and-blood person. There was nothing in his game that hinted he was trying to fire up Touya's passion, or trick him into a mistake.

In a very tiny corner of his mind, he allowed himself to indulge in the slightest feeling of annoyance. Then he smothered it, knowing that any distraction could spell the end for him.

They were quickly entering yose, and Touya started to wonder if he was winning. As he tried to read ahead, he became dizzy, the complex pattern of stones trying his abilities. He thought he was in the lead, but Shindou might have another surprise in store. He was surprised to find himself looking forward to it.

Around them, the crowd crackled with babble as they tried to figure out if Touya was winning or not. He tuned them out, bringing his focus into razor-sharp clarity.

It was hard for him to breathe. The confrontation on the board was squeezing the air from his lungs, and he was lost in breathless wonder until Shindou finally placed the final hand.

"Who won?"

"I can't see... Touya-sensei?"

"I can't believe Shindou..."

The babble of voices was distorted in Touya's head as he tried to focus on figuring it out. Normally it would only take a moment for him to figure out the score, but this time...

"It's 70-65," Shindou said in a slightly thick voice. "When you add komi, white wins by half a moku." Touya and Shindou stared at each other, unable to break away, each realizing that something amazing had just happened.

"A half moku..." the pro echoed. Touya almost shivered. How long had it been since he'd had such a good game? The thrill of not knowing who the victor would be and having an opponent who didn't back down had been something he'd lost long ago.

He studied Shindou carefully, noting the bleached hair and informal shirt with a touch of disgust. Shindou was stretching slowly, accepting condolences from his friends who were nearly tripping over themselves in their haste to assure him he had played impressively. Amano, the reporter, was eagerly scribbling down notes, while other pros were looking at Shindou like they'd seen a ghost.

Who was this boy, this... insei? Why wasn't he a pro yet?

Something about the board, despite its amazing complexities, still struck Touya as... wrong. He stared at the game, trying to figure it out. The kosumi... a weak move nowadays, an old style... as though Shindou was playing by rules 100 years out of date.

"You didn't take komi into consideration," Touya accused after a moment's consideration, realizing what had struck him as being so off. He stared down at the board, realizing that without the rule, he would have lost, and lost badly.

"No, my friend and I never played with it, except on the net," Shindou replied. He smiled a bit, holding a hand to the back of his head in embarrassment. "I guess I need more practice, don't I?" He rose to his feet and turned away, leaving a shocked Akira behind him.

His hands trembled as he began to clean the pieces away, knowing that something in his life had just been irrevocably changed forever. It was like diving off a cliff into icy waters without being sure how deep they were... or even if he could swim well enough to survive. "Who are you, Shindou Hikaru?" Touya Akira asked softly, realizing at long last someone had finally appeared before him who was worthy of being his rival.

* * *

Amano felt like he had been punched in the gut. Around him, others were starting to speak, thrilled about the game they had just seen. As they stared at the final board, he felt his breath coming back. The game would have been more suited to a title match, instead of a low-level tournament like this.

Shindou was already on his feet, trying to pass through the crowd. There was a rather pretty girl with him, her face confused and a bit frightened by the demands of the audience, who were all calling out questions.

"Who are you, kid?"

"Are you taking the pro exams?"

"Why did you play that kosumi?"

"Why aren't you a pro yet?"

The voices rose in pitch as they tried to drown each other out. Shindou was wearing a very perturbed look. "Hey, I gotta leave!" he said in annoyance. A few of the insei started to shoulder their way through the crowd to offer their help, but most of the pros were too intent on getting _something_ out of Shindou to let them.

Amano's fingers twitched. He needed to have some answers for his article. He hated being too pushy, but while he was sure he could find Touya Akira again, something about Shindou was decidedly secretive and less than friendly. He knew instinctively that if he let Shindou slip away, he wouldn't be able to corner him in time to meet his deadline.

He let out a sigh of annoyance. If Shindou was always like this, he knew his next few years of reporting had just become that much more difficult.

"Don't worry," someone said from behind him. "You should be able to catch him outside." Amano jumped a bit before crossly wishing someone would make Shinoda wear a bell. He was far too good at sneaking up on people.

"I shouldn't have to chase him," Amano said with a touch of exasperation. "Most players know enough to wait for an after game talk."

"Shindou isn't most players," Shinoda said, projecting the serenity for which his was noted. "He knows very little about the Go world and its standard courtesies."

Shinoda had been the one who had warned Amano, in a round-about way, about the new insei. "Then who is he?"

Shinoda smiled slightly. "He's one of my students who should do well in the future."

Amano knew Shinoda was being diplomatic to avoid putting pressure on Shindou. "What would you say his chances of passing are?"

"Off the record? If he doesn't pass, it'll be because he manages to miss the exam. On the record, I believe he should be competitive."

Amano dutifully took the quote, wishing Amano wasn't so discrete. "Were you surprised by his achievement today?"

"If there's one thing I've learned about Shindou-kun, it's to expect the unexpected. I am pleased he performed so well under pressure. It bodes well for him."

That was a quote Amano could use, and he nodded in satisfaction. "Can I ask you something off the record?"

Shinoda, who had always been Amano's friend, nodded slowly. "Off the record."

"What do you honestly think of him?"

"Honestly? I haven't figure out his motivations, which is unusual. Usually I can tell if a student plays because he loves the game or is after fame. Sometimes they're pushed into it by their families, but when I met Shindou's mother, it was clear he wasn't doing it for her."

There was something Shinoda wasn't saying. "How about his teacher?"

"He only joined a study session recently. Before that, he learned from a friend and playing on the net."

The idea was boggling... and a creeping suspicion started to grow. The NetGo was synonymous with one master player. "Do you think he's Sai?"

"No." The response was definitive. "As good as he is, he's still not on Sai's or Touya Kouyo's level."

Amano deflated a bit. Discovering Sai's real identity would have been a great scoop.

"But I think he's definitely played Sai many times. There's elements of Sai's style ingrained in his play, a genuine understanding of how things work. It's something that can't be feigned."

"Sai's pupil?" Amano asked, breathless.

"Maybe. I haven't pushed him on it. He's... well, secretive isn't the right word. Stubborn? That might be right. I think you'll find out when you interview him."

Amano looked around, noting that Shindou had managed to vanish. "Speaking of which..."

Shinoda smiled with understanding. "Go, go," he said, waving his hands in a shooing gesture.

Amano nodded his thanks, before weaving (as well as an overweight man could) through the crowd, apologizing as he bumped into people. Shindou had moved rather quick, but Amano wasn't about to give up.

He finally caught up to Shindou outside. "Shindou-kun! Shindou-kun!" Amano called as he jogged after the insei. The insei, who had a pretty good lead, paused, offering a confused look as Amano finally stopped next to him. Amano bent over a little bit as he tried to catch his breath, panting and flushed. Shindou hadn't been running, but he still moved at a pace which was too fast for a middle-aged reporter to keep up with easily. Shindou and the girl stared at him curiously, the girl grabbing Shindou's arm and inching a bit closer to her friend.

"Shindou-kun? Could I have a moment?" he asked between gasps. Oxygen was gradually returning to his body, but he made a note to start using his treadmill more.

Shindou blinked at him, no recognition in his eyes. "Um, sure. Who are you?"

"I'm Amano Senji. I'm a reporter for Weekly Go."

"So?" Shindou sounded less than interested, glancing at the girl at his side. She elbowed him roughly, urging him to be more friendly. "What do you want with me?" he asked after a moment after glaring at his companion.

Amano wondered how Shindou could be that naive. "I wanted to talk to you about the tournament."

"I lost," Shindou said, shrugging it off. He started to turn again, but the girl's grip held him in place.

"Shindou, an insei has never made it to the final round of an insei-professional tournament. Touya Kouyo made it to the semi-finals in the New Stars Tournament, but that was back thirty years ago," Amano explained. It was hard to believe that this child had accomplished what he had. He didn't look the part. "Your achievements today are unprecedented."

The girl's jaw dropped just a bit. "Hikaru?" she said, and her hands were shaking as she clung to her friend.

He placed a reassuring hand on the girl's shoulder. "It's fine, Akari." Then he turned to Amano. "I just played the way I usually do. I had a good teacher," Shindou said after a moment.

"Who was your teacher?" Amano practically pounced. "Is he a professional?" _Is he called Sai?_ was on the tip of his tongue, but he decided not to venture there yet.

"I didn't have a teacher, not really," Shindou replied. "I learned from a friend." Amano's trained ear caught the hint of sorrow, and he noted the past tense.

Akari had backed off a bit, her face pale. "Who, Hikaru?"

He didn't answer her, a disappointment to Amano who wanted to learn how Shindou had become such a fearsome player. Instead, he merely shrugged a bit again before glancing at his watch. "Listen, we have to get going. My mother's expecting me."

It was more tactful a brush-off then Amano had expected. "I've got a few more quick questions," Amano said hastily, hoping to find out _something._ "How did you think Touya Akira was as an opponent?" Amano asked.

"Touya Akira? Oh, he's pretty good, but I'll beat him next time," Shindou promised. "He's not the Touya I want to play."

Amano's pen stilled at the sheer audacity of that statement. Many young insei had their heads full of playing the higher-ranking players, like Touya-sensei, but most understood it would be years before they had earned enough skill to deserve such a match. "You... want to play Touya-meijin?"

He was almost forced back by the way Shindou's eyes glittered. He had seen that look before, on high-ranking pros before they entered title matches. It was a look of a player seeking mastery of the game, who understood what Go really was.

"He's the one closest to the Hand of God, and I want to play that move," Shindou said. "Anything else is irrelevant."

Amano knew he looked like a landed fish, and the girl seemed as confused as he. The seriousness was gone from Shindou's face as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by something more suited to a teenager. He took the girl's hand and tugged it lightly. "Akari, we need to go."

She nodded, meeting Amano's stunned gaze with one that was nearly apologetic. "Excuse us," she said, and then Shindou was dragging her away, leaving a pole-axed Amano behind.

* * *

Thanks to Sailor Mac for editing. 


	7. Chapter 6: Every Little Thing He Does

Aishuu Offers:

**Brightly Burning**

A Hikaru no Go Alternate Universe  
Disclaimers: Hotta and Obata. Shonen Jump. Not Mine.  
Note: ladyaddiction has written two nice sides. They're on her LJ... Kudos for her the input on this chapter.

* * *

_Part Six: Every Little Thing He Does_

By the time the insei exams started, it was an accepted fact that there would only be two spots up for grabs. The third had already been staked out by Shindou Hikaru.

Since the Young Lions Tournament, the insei class had been graced with the presence of pros ranging from one-dan all the way through seventh. Most of them sought games with Shindou, but Shinoda wouldn't permit it, to the frustration of everyone involved.

"I don't think this is the appropriate time," he would say, before directing the hapless pro over to an insei who could use the practice. Most of the pros had been taught by Shinoda as insei, and didn't quite dare to protest.

Waya had been amused and irritated. With all the focus on Shindou, it was hard not to feel lost in the shuffle. His own sensei, Morishita, had gotten into the habit of asking Shindou for a second opinion, treating him more like a peer than a pupil. Had Shindou not been as oblivious as he was to the special respect accorded him, it would have made him universally detested by the insei. Instead, a sort of exasperated affection was shown to him as the insei tried to protect him from his own ignorance.

One pro who was conspicuous through his absence was Touya Akira. After a rather shocking article in Weekly Go - and Waya suspected Amano had been tactful and used the less incendiary quotes from Shindou - most people would have expected him to show up and challenge Shindou to put him in his place. Touya wasn't known for having a temper, but _anyone_ would have been offended at the way Shindou had brushed him off.

He didn't show. Waya speculated about that with Honda, Nase and Iijima during a lunch break. Shindou had wandered off to parts unknown, making it convenient.

"Maybe he really didn't notice," Nase said, shrugging a bit. "He could have dismissed Shindou as a pretentious upstart."

"He _is_ a pretentious upstart, but that doesn't make him less of a threat," Iijima said. "I don't think Touya is the type to get overconfident. He recognized Shindou as a rival."

Waya agreed. He had seen that look of stunned surprise in Touya's eyes after the game. "Maybe he's trying to be, you know, subtle? He still has a few months before Shindou enters the pro leagues."

"So he's waiting for an official match?" Honda asked.

"Maybe." Iijima folded his hands in his lap. "He does like tradition."

"Maybe he just doesn't care," Nase suggested.

Waya hardly saw that as a possibility, but the suggestions grew more and more outlandish as they continued their meal. He knew, as anyone who had a true desire to play Go would, that Touya's competitive spirit must have been stirred by the threat of the unknown. The game could have gone either way, and the next one might end in a loss for Touya.

Shindou was annoyed by the whole mess. He was under tremendous pressure and scrutiny, and once Waya almost beat him when he had made a mistake early in the game, distracted by a small "discussion" two pros who had been watching were having. They were ridiculing Shindou's opening joseki which had fallen out of fashion in the 30's as plain stupid. Shindou had been so annoyed he hadn't used a large enough keima, turning what would have been a slaughter into a close game.

Shindou had not been happy about playing through yose. He won, he always did, but the two moku victory was far below his usual standard. He was still weak in yose, so it might even have been beneficial for him, but Shindou hated playing poorly. Waya watched him try to calm himself as the pros started in on an after-game discussion.

"Let's go do something," Waya said, trying to divert Shindou from his annoyance.

Shindou perked right up, ignoring the two pros who were rambling about his comeback. "Oh? Do you know a new salon? I was thinking about going back to Dougenzaka and playing Kawai-san that game I promised him, but I'm not in the mood to argue with him today." He sent a dark look at their company.

"No... I mean, do something totally unrelated to Go. Watch a movie and grab some sushi." It had been a while since Waya had just hung out, and he could feel the need for a tension relieving night.

Shindou stared at Waya. "You know how to do things that don't involve Go?" His expression was completely dumbstruck.

This was one of those moments that Waya wondered if Shindou really _was_ that stupid. The genuine curiosity wasn't mocking, just confused. "Shindou, do you honestly believe we eat, sleep and dream Go?" he asked in exasperation.

"I do," Shindou said, his tone utterly serious.

Waya tried to recall. The times they'd hung out before, they'd always talked about Go, or went places after going to Go salons first. Shindou would occasionally mention musical artists or his favorite baseball team when prompted, but he would act almost disinterested. Waya had always thought of Shindou as being more normal than most insei, but it was becoming clear that Shindou was slowly distancing himself from pop culture. "Shindou, don't you have a life? Go is great, but there's times when you have to move away from the goban!"

"No matter how hard or long I study, I will never know everything about Go. I don't have time to waste," Shindou said. "I want the hand of god."

"Shindou..." Waya said softly, unable to think of anything to say. He loved Go, but Shindou was obsessed. He didn't think it was healthy, but a small part of him was envious that the other was able to possess so much devotion.

Shindou shifted a bit on his feet, apparently sensing he'd done something wrong. "Did you have something you wanted to do?" he asked hastily. "It's probably a good idea to let our brains idle."

Waya saw the implied apology. "Sushi! And there's a new fun park that just opened that I've been meaning to try out. I haven't been on a roller coaster in months."

Shindou checked his wallet before agreeing. "Might be fun," he said, before calling his mother and letting her know he was going to be late.

The evening was worth it, Waya found out. Shindou seemed to relax, and his laughter was lighter and more frequent. They ate too much at the restaurant they stopped in first, and Shindou spilled a bit of soy sauce on his sleeve. Annoyed, he shed his sweatshirt, tying it around his waist. Beneath it he wore a brilliant yellow T-shirt that proclaimed his devotion to soccer in a fanciful font.

"Nice shirt," Waya commented dryly. The _Eat My Cleats, Loser_ shirt hardly fit in with the image of a Go player.

Shindou glanced down to see what he was wearing. "Ah, yeah. It's an old one." He fingered the fabric idly. It was just a bit worn around the cuffs.

"Were you any good?"

"Huh?"

"Soccer. Were you any good?"

Shindou frowned slightly. "You've been talking to Akari, haven't you?"

It wasn't a secret that Waya was dating Shindou's best friend. Shindou had found it amusing and traumatizing at the same time, cracking jokes about being the best man and godfather to their first child. Waya had, as was characteristic, blushed, stammered and lost his temper. He did like Akari, and she was a sweet girl, but he was only sixteen. After threatening to choke Shindou using a goban and a bit of tape, Shindou had backed off somewhat.

"Um, a little."

"Don't you have better things to be talking about?" he asked. "Like names for your future children?"

Waya gritted his teeth before taking a deep breath. "Shindou, if you continue to be a jerk, we won't be naming any for you."

Shindou blinked, then laughed. "Like I'd want any of your children named after me! They'd look like _you_!" he said, before taking off down the street at a steady jog.

Shindou was in better shape then Waya, but the older insei managed to keep pace until they reached the train station. From there, they went to the amusement park.

Waya noted that Shindou preferred the scarier rides, the ones that made adrenaline pump as people were suspended 100 feet in the air. The faster the ride, the more Shindou enjoyed it, dragging Waya after him in a flurry of enthusiasm. Waya regretted the sushi they'd eaten after the third time on the roller coaster, but Shindou was practically shaking with unspent energy. It was like a dam had broken, and he couldn't hold still.

It was getting late, and Shindou was happily stuffing his face with cotton candy, something that made Waya groan a bit to himself. The last thing Shindou needed was a sugar buzz.

"This was fun," Shindou said as they finally left the park. His stuck his hands in his empty jeans pocket, slouching slightly as they walked back. Shindou had horrible posture. He could barely sit in seiza for an hour, Waya knew. He was always complaining about his feet falling asleep.

"It was, wasn't it?" Waya was toying with a good luck charm he had purchased, flipping it over and over in his right hand. Shindou had said he didn't need one. He looked up at the sky, wishing he could see the stars.

They were quiet as they arrived at the station. "Do you want to hang out during the prelims?" he asked.

"I... no, I can't." Shindou looked a bit uncomfortable. "I have some studying I need to be doing, and I want to finish my summer homework."

Waya nodded, understanding. Shindou may have enjoyed the night off, but he wasn't about to relax his endless pursuit of perfection. Shindou had made his choice about what was more important to him.

"See you, then."

"Right." Shindou offered a bit of a wave, and then took off.

The next time they met, they would be rivals.

* * *

On the first day of exams, Akari stopped by the Shindou residence. In her hands she cradled a bento, wrapped in a cheerful yellow cloth. It had been a while since she'd visited

Shindou Mitsuko was always happy to see the girl. She was so cheerful, a distinct difference from the moody Hikaru. She knew teenagers were supposed to change, but she missed her son's cheerful personality. She overcompensated on her welcome whenever she saw Akari because she wished she could return Hikaru to the smiling boy who had frustrated her.

"Ah, Akari-chan! Did you come to see Hikaru off?"

Akari nodded, her ponytails bouncing against her shoulders. "Yes... did he leave already?" she asked, trying to hide the disappointment in her voice. There was only about thirty minutes until the train left, but she had figured Hikaru would keep his usual cut-it-too-damned-close schedule.

"No, he's still getting ready," Mitsuko said with annoyance. "He overslept, and I had to drag him out of bed." She turned toward the stairs. "Hikaru! You're going to be late!" she yelled.

"I'm coming already!" was the reply that echoed from the stairs. "Hold on, would you?" Hikaru sounded irritated. There was a loud "thump," probably the sound of Hikaru falling out of bed. Akari hid a giggle in her hand. It was nice to know some things didn't change.

Mitsuko winked at Akari. "Want to go get him for me?"

Once she would have bolted up the stairs and into his room without a second thought, but now that she was older, the idea brought a flush to life on her cheeks. She hadn't realized the differences between boys and girls when she was younger; Hikaru had merely been her best friend. "I'll wait," she said, wishing she wasn't so fair. She had to resemble a tomato at the moment.

Hikaru's mother smiled gently. "I was teasing. If he isn't down here in three minutes, I'll get him," she raised her voice so it carried up to Hikaru's room threateningly.

"Geez!" Hikaru shouted. "Be patient!"

Another "thump-thump!" and the sound of muffled cursing made Mitsuko shake her head. "Oh, Hikaru..." she sighed, more to herself than Akari. A smile of fond exasperation crossed her face. "Be right back, I need to get him some toast to eat while he'd running," she told Akari.

Akari waited a bit awkwardly. This home had once been as familiar as her own, but now her eyes fixated on the little changes made since she'd last come over. There were new cushions on the couch, and the wall clock had gained a crack. A new stain seemed to have appeared in the corner of the carpet, and flowers were in a vase she'd never seen before. They were small things, but enough to make her realize that time had moved on.

A "bam!" from a door signaled that Hikaru was out of his room, and then the thudding of his feet came. He appeared on the top of the stairs, taking the stairs three at a time at a speed that made Akari wonder if he was trying to break his neck. "Mom, I-" He nearly tripped as he skidded to a stop on seeing Akari, his forward momentum abruptly arrested. "Akari?"

She held the lunch out in front of herself like a peace offering. "I wanted to bring you lunch and walk you to the station."

"Did you make it?" he asked suspiciously as he started down the stairs at a more sedate pace.

"Yes," she answered in a 'don't you dare say _anything_ about it' tone.

"Thanks," Hikaru said nervously, running a hand to smooth his hair. There were plenty of fly-away strands, which made Akari frown.

"Did you brush your hair?" she asked, juggling the lunch back and forth.

"No time!" He started to head for his shoes.

Akari rolled her eyes, set her package down on the hallway table, and rummaged through her bag. "It'll take thirty seconds!" she announced, practically pouncing on him with a comb. Hikaru yelped, and playfully tried to fend her off, but she ended up winning anyway, cornering him. "Just hold still!" she told him.

The light-hearted struggle set them both off laughing as she arranged his hair into a more neat coiffure. His hair was a bit dry from the constant bleaching of his bangs but still slid through the comb easily. Once she snagged a tangle, and he gave an exaggerated yelp of pain.

"Be quiet, you big baby! Take it like a man!" She tugged a piece of the undyed part.

He muttered something about her not knowing what men were like, tagged with a few epithets which would have earned him a mouthful of soap had his mother heard. Akari merely made a show of arranging the last piece neatly, before backing off. She had been laughing so hard that her sides were sore.

Mitsuko came back, a brilliant smile on her face. "It sounds like you're having fun," she noted.

"If you call being attacked by a lunatic fun," Hikaru griped, before brightening on seeing his mother holding a cup of juice and a slice of toast. "For me?" He practically yanked them out of her hands instead of waiting for a reply.

"I wonder why I bother when you're so rude," Mitsuko teased.

"Because you love me!" Hikaru announced, grinning a bit. Akari watched his Adam's apple bob up and down as he chugged the juice down in three long gulps, and then he handed the glass back to his mother. "Sankyou!" he slurred as he started to munch on his breakfast.

Mitsuko merely shook her head in mock disappointment. "I spend fifteen years trying to teach you manners, and this is what I get?"

He flashed her a "V" with his free hand, then shoved his feet into his shoes. "You know you love me!" he said cheerfully.

"Only on odd days of the month." Mitsuko was practically glowing as her son laughed at her. She looked over at the clock, and a bit of her light dimmed. "It's getting late," she said softly. "You should get going. When will you be home?"

"Probably not till after six. Don't wait for me for dinner."

"I'll keep something warm for you," she said, her voice softer. "Good luck." Then she nodded to Akari, and took the cup back to the kitchen.

Akari felt awkward. Hikaru sounded like a salaryman, so adult that it made her feel childish. She picked up the lunch again and held it out. "Hikaru?"

He shoved the last piece of toast in his mouth, chewing and swallowing quickly. "Thank, Akari." His fingers brushed hers as he claimed the food. "Did you want to walk with me?" he asked after a long moment of awkward silence.

She smiled at him, relieved that she was being offered a chance. "I would love to!"

He opened the door and motioned for her to proceed him. "Let's leave, then? I'm off!" he called behind him.

Hikaru set a brisk pace, walking faster than most people would have felt comfortable. Akari nearly had to jog to keep up, and couldn't find enough breath to start a conversation. It had been like this when they were younger, though. Hikaru had always been in such a hurry to get places - usually because he was behind schedule - that walking with him had turned into exercise.

Her breathing was heavy as they finally made it to the station. Hikaru didn't comment on the way she leaned forward as she tried to slow her body down. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears.

"Huh. We're early," he said idly.

"Only you would call five minutes early," she said. "Most people would be running for their trains."

"They always leave late," Hikaru said with the expertise of the experienced.

She tried to find something to say, and was surprised at the words that popped out of her mouth. "Hikaru, when you're done with the exam, do you think we could play a game?"

Hikaru blinked with surprise, then sniffed as he tilted his nose up slightly. "You're a hundred years too early to play me," he told her condescendingly. "Even if you placed 20 stones, I'd still slaughter you."

She stomped her foot angrily. "Hikaru!" She knew he was very good, but she was _trying_ and wasn't that what counted?

The smile that broke across his face was the happiest she'd seen him in a while. "Just kidding. Maybe next week sometime?" he offered, light dancing in his eyes.

She thought on her schedule quickly. She had been planning on taking a trip to Shibuya to do some shopping with her girlfriends, but she could probably clear Thursday. Having the chance to spend time with Hikaru would be worth more.

"Thursday?"

He shook his head. "I'll be playing another exam game. Maybe some other time?"

"My family is going to the hot springs until Wednesday, and Friday I have to meet with Haruna-chan to discuss class activities."

"We'll find some time eventually," he said. There was a muffled announcement Akari didn't quite catch, but it was apparently enough for Hikaru. "There's my train."

She nodded, choking up.

"Aren't you going to wish me good luck?" he asked.

She knew he was teasing; he'd told her numerous times he didn't believe in luck, only himself. It had become a joke between them - she would wish him luck, he would same something pithy, and then she'd smack him.

This time, her voice wouldn't rise to the occasion. She stared at him stupidly, her lips slightly parted as her throat closed up, unable to fulfil their usual ritual.

Hikaru seemed to understand, because his expression softened. He ignored the crowd around them, wrapping his arms around her waist as he drew her close for a hug. "I'm sorry, Akari," he whispered into her hair. "I'm sorry."

She clung to him, but the speakers repeated their calls for passengers of the 9:20 terminating in Ichigaya Station. Then he pulled away, and he tapped her nose playfully. "Study hard, okay?"

Akari nodded, but still couldn't speak. He smiled at her a bit sadly again, then turned to walk into the crowd. As she watched the back of his head, she wrapped her arms around herself reassuringly. "Good luck," she said, too late for him to hear.

She decided to ignore the tears falling down her cheeks. Maybe if she pretended they didn't exist, they would go away. Hikaru was disappearing before her very eyes, and there was nothing she could do about it.

She knew she was losing her best friend.

* * *

Iijima Ryou was a good Go player, a touch bogged down by technicalities, but still solid. His game lacked imagination, he knew, but he _understood_ Go better than almost anyone. His ability to predict who would win in any match had earned him numerous pools among the insei. To him, Go was something which could be predicted like the course of the stars.

If there was one person he hated playing, it was Shindou Hikaru. The only thing that was predictable about Shindou was that he would invariably win. He played with a strong, cunning style, making moves which seemed suicidal, but which actually were the sign of an innovative mind. With the exception of his loss to Touya Akira, he'd maintained a perfect record. It wasn't just impressive, it was unheard of. Shindou had to be some kind of monster.

Like usual, Shindou managed to cut it close, showing up for the exams less than five minutes before they started. The storm boomed melodramatically outside as Shindou shook his head, trying to get rid of the stray droplets of water that he'd collected. His expression was extremely put-upon as he swore softly under his breath.

"Shindou's on time!" Waya feigned having a heart attack, dropping to his knees melodramatically. Honda just rolled his eyes, while Nase snickered.

"Laugh it up," Shindou said grouchily. "The bus driver almost forgot my stop."

"Ouch," Waya said. "That's your kind of luck, isn't it?"

"If I stood in a crowd in the middle of a field on a perfectly sunny day, lightning would still find me," Shindou grouched. Nase tutted at him while Waya pretended to play the violin, mocking him.

"Least your luck in Go isn't like that," Honda murmured, sounding a bit envious. This was his last pro exam before graduation, like Iijima. No matter what happened, neither would be returning to the insei. Iijima hadn't decided yet if he was going to give up the game, but the pressure from his parents was intense.

"Luck has little to do with Go," Shindou replied, his voice sharper than was polite. "Go is a game of skill."

"Luck can be a skill," Fukui said. Fukui depended heavily on changes of fortune to effect his wins.

"We make our own luck," Shindou said. "We take the abilities we have and use them. Sometimes there's things we can't avoid, but we do what we can." He glanced around the room, and stiffened a bit. "Are those the outsider people you told me about?" Shindou asked curiously. He pointedly looked over to a group comprised of primarily men in their twenties. The men stared back a bit hostilely, and one, noting Shindou's blond hair, murmured something to another. Within moments, the whole group was studying at Shindou.

"Why are they staring at me like that?" he asked, sounding a bit annoyed. He grabbed Waya's shoulder and stepped behind him.

"Weekly Go? A certain player saying he was going to beat Touya-meijin? Ring any bells?"

"I didn't say that! I said I wanted to play him!" Shindou protested.

"After giving Touya Akira one of the closest games of his career?" Nase patted him on the shoulder. "You poor, clueless child," she said consoling before ruffling his hair.

Their babble was annoying and set Iijima on edge. He tried to calm his breathing and find his center.

Shindou stuck his tongue out. "I can't help it if I'm gifted!"

His protest just rubbed in the differences. Waya grabbed him around the neck, forcibly ruffling his hair. "Stop being so arrogant!" he said, his teeth flashing in a fearsome grin.

Iijima felt the tension that was like a stretched rubber band through the room. Fukui, Nase, Waya, Honda, himself - all of them had a lot to lose. Shindou wouldn't even know that fear.

As luck of the draw would have it, Shindou was his first opponent. Iijima resolved that Shindou would not force him to resign - Iijima was going to bring the game into yose if it killed him.

They settled into their seats, and Iijima noted without amusement that he had won black - not that it would help. Shindou was going to cruise through the exam like he did everything else.

It was unfair.

Maybe Shindou sensed Iijima's bitterness, because he turned his head slightly, his smile fading. He nodded, settling down, and Iijima stared into Shindou's face, seeing his impending defeat. 


	8. Chapter 7: Sweet Child of Mine

**Brightly Burning**  
A Hikaru no Go Alternate Universe  
Disclaimers: Hotta and Obata. Shonen Jump. Not Mine.  
Notes: ladyaddiction once again gave valuable insights on this. Also, I'd like to say "thank you" to kamitra as well, since I keep referring to her source information.

* * *

_Part 7: Sweet Child of Mine_

Touya Kouyo was a paradox; he existed in a narrowly focused world, but understood almost everything around him. He accepted life was often beyond his control, and this very acceptance led him to control what he could. 

On a goban, he was the one in command; everywhere else, there were events that were beyond even his abilities. Despite his brilliance at Go, he was only a mortal man. One thing he couldn't control, he found to his surprise, was his son, Akira.

Akira had always been a biddable sort of child, as infatuated with Go as his father. He was proud of him, the way Akira had set his sights on surpassing his own self, and privately a bit amused. He could see shadows of his younger self in Akira's attitude, and wanted to encourage it.

As his son's prowess grew into a new legend, a part of him thrilled as he recognized that some day, they might face each other as something more than father and son, mentor and student. Sometimes, selfishly, he dreamt of Akira becoming the rival he had long been without. What a wonderful dream come true it would be, if they could find the Hand of God together.

It wasn't anything he ever told his son, instead offer affection and guidance. He really had no idea if he was a good parent or not, but he did his best. He knew most parents wouldn't understand the way Go was so intrinsic to their lives, but it worked for them - until recently.

Lately his son had become withdrawn and moody, prone to staring thoughtfully into space and a touch of forgetfulness. It wasn't anything he was doing overtly, but Kouyo had recognized an uncharacteristic brusqueness in his manner. He wasn't quite rude, but sometimes he pushed the border of abruptness to the point where people were starting to get annoyed. It was like he just didn't have time to deal with the common courtesies.

Akiko had been relieved by their son's subtle changes instead of concerned. "He's growing up," she announced, amusement dancing in her eyes as they shared tea before dinner, a habit they had developed. For fifteen minutes a day, she had his attention. "Don't you remember being a teenager?" she asked.

Kouyo couldn't, actually. By the time he'd been Akira's age, he'd been a professional Go player. "There is no reason for my son to be acting like a brat," he replied. "Akira has always been exceptional."

His wife shook her head, irony curving her lips. "He's still a normal boy."

There was nothing normal about him, Kouyo wanted to protest. He knew that it would be a battle impossible to wind, so instead let the topic drop, complimenting Akiko on the tea blend she had used. His wife was smart enough to recognize the distraction, but discretely let it slide.

He loved her for that, with a distant affection that he hadn't realized he'd possessed until she gave him his son. Akiko was a woman in a million, understanding instinctively that his role as husband came second to his love of Go. She had accepted that, and in turn he tried to be kind to her. It couldn't have been an easy existence, but she always smiled for him.

Lately, he'd become distracted himself. He really didn't have any high ground to stand on when it came to criticizing Akira's inattentiveness. He found himself wondering more and more if he really was as strong as he'd always believed, or if there was something else out there.

He remembered that game, so few months before, that had changed his life. He still had no idea who Sai was, but every now and then, he'd sneak some time on Ogata's laptop, hoping... but Sai never appeared. Ashiwara had told him that Sai vanished after that game, and it was hard not to feel frustrated.

He had been defeated by a nobody, shaking his foundation. There was someone out there who was better than he was, and he wanted to play that person again. He wanted to know the challenge of Sai. He wanted to know if Sai could show him the Hand of God.

Akiko smiled at him, before patting his arm. "Kouyo-san, could you please see if Akira would like to join us for dinner? It will be ready in about ten minutes." She rose, gracefully gliding back to the kitchen. He took a moment to admire her subtlety.

Akira's room was on the second floor, the most modern room in the entire house, with the exception of the kitchen. His son slept in a bed, and was fond of that "damn contraption" he had on his desk. They'd bought it to help him with his school work, but Akira had quickly found Go-related uses for it. Kouyo approved of that.

He knocked on his son's door, waiting for a reply. None came, and he tapped on it again, a bit louder, before calling, "Akira?"

No answer. He listened careful for the sound of someone fidgeting inside. It would be rude to barge in, but he felt concern start to rise. His son could have fallen, or... or he could just be asleep. "Akira?" he said, his voice projecting the way it did during a Go seminar.

"Come in," Akira said finally.

He pushed the door open without hesitation, entering. His son was sitting in a tall computer chair, staring intently at his screen. Touya was struck, suddenly, by how defined his son's face had become. The comfortable baby fat of his youth had fled, leaving the angles of his cheeks standing out unopposed. His chin had firmed and sharpened, and he wondered when the innocence of his eyes had been replaced by determination.

It occurred to him that Akiko had been right - their son was indeed on the verge of becoming an adult. He wondered why that saddened him.

"What are you looking at?" he asked after along moment of silence hung emptily between them. Akira seemed transfixed by the machine, and wasn't acknowledging Touya's presence. His son had always known how to sit still. Not for him was the fidgeting that many children weren't able to contain. This, though, was abnormal since Akira was a polite child by nature. His rudeness was getting even worse than Kouyo had thought.

"I'm just checking the pro exam results," Akira said after a moment.

It seemed ridiculous for his three-dan son to be interested in the upcoming shodans. Akira needed to set his sights on those above him; Kouyo firmly believed his son would be sitting in a title match before he was eightteen. He'd already entered the Honinbou league.

This distraction, it was not healthy. He had a pretty good idea why it was happening, though. Ashiwara had shown him the kifu from the Young Lion's Tournament the very same night the game had been played. He had been impressed at the skill of the insei, and a bit startled. He'd raised his son to be the best, and seeing another teenager verging on Akira's skill level was startling.

"Is there something wrong, Akira?" he asked neutrally. He had always raised his son to talk freely with him, since he wanted to know what was going on in his son's life.

"He won," Akira said. He turned away from the computer screen, his lips pressed together in a tight line. "He passed the pro exams."

Kouyo hissed slightly in surprise. There was still a few more games before the end of the test, and things shouldn't have been decided that quickly. Akira hadn't been defeated during the exams; surely it was discomforting to see another young pro doing the same. Akira had been the prodigy, and now there existed the possibility that there was someone else his age who might be better than he.

Kouyo opened his mouth to offer reassurances, to point out Akira's own strength and how he didn't need to worry, but instinct stopped him. He saw his son's hands shake slightly, and looking into his son's blue eyes, he realized he had misjudged.

Akira wasn't scared at all. He was trembling with excitement.

* * *

The last match of the professional test fell on a Thursday late in September. Outside, the leaves painted the sky with their brilliant colors, but inside the world seemed heavy with gloom. Today was the day that would decide the fate of Honda Toshinori. 

Honda and Kanou Yuu, an outsider, were both tied for the third position. If either lost, they would most likely be out of competition. The chances of them both losing were slight, since Kanou was playing a man who had a pitiful 6-23 record. Unless he snapped under the pressure, he was almost certain to win. Honda, though... Honda was playing Shindou.

Shindou had passed the test five games ago, but still attended his matches. A few had joked that it was a waste of the bus fare, but Shindou had merely rolled his eyes. "I like playing," he had said simply.

It was something they respected him for, since many wanted the chance to face someone as strong as Shindou. Waya, though, had dreaded his game - he wanted to _win_ and it was hard not to go into it with a defeatist attitude. He had played dozens of games with Shindou, and had never managed to bring him into yose.

Waya had only secured his position on the last test, and was looking forward to enjoying a low-pressure game against Nase. He was worried today anyway, because Honda was his friend and he wanted Honda to become a pro with him and Shindou. He had the creeping feeling that would be an idle wish.

Waya watched as Shindou put the bento he'd brought away on a shelf designated for lunches. He couldn't tell what he was thinking, not uncommon when dealing with Shindou. His features were the perfect blend of cluelessness and interest he always wore. Apparently he had no idea that today's game was important.

Waya clamped down on the small voice in his head that warned him to stay out of things. He cared about Honda; it was worth at least asking. "Shindou? Can I talk to you for a second?" he asked, leaning his hip against the table.

Shindou nodded. "What's up?" He popped open a bottle of water, taking a long pull, before capping it again.

"I was wondering..." Damn, this was awkward. Another tact was needed. "Shindou, you know that Honda... I mean, if Honda loses today, he'll probably have to give up Go."

"Why would he do that? He can enter the pro exams next year, can't he? There's guys a lot older than he is- or are you only allowed to enter a certain number of times?"

Trying to explain reality to Shindou always made Waya wish he kept a copy of Weekly Go on him so Shindou could be regularly smacked. "Shindou, he'll graduate high school this year. Most insei have to quit or turn ronin. It's nearly impossible to devote enough time to Go."

Shindou sighed, brushing his hand through his hair. "What do you expect me to do?" he asked.

Damn, damn, _damnit,_ thought Waya. He opened his mouth, trying to bring the words out and failing miserably. He knew his body was tense.

Shindou studied him for a second, then turned away. Waya was left staring at his back. "You want me to resign the game, don't you?" His voice carried over his shoulders, and Waya wondered what his expression was like.

"He's your friend," Waya said. "Can't you do this for him, so he at least has a chance?" Would it really hurt, for Shindou to drop one match? He knew how hard Honda had been working, knew what would happen if he lost here. Most likely, Honda would be forced out of Go. He was eighteen, too old to remain an insei.

"I don't know if I'll win or not."

"Bullshit, Shindou. You're going to win, just like you have the other dozen times you've played."

"Waya, each game of Go is different. No one can predict the outcome; sometimes the favorite loses because he's having a bad day, sometimes someone manages to think outside the box enough to come up with something completely unexpected. I don't want to turn down a game because it might just contain the Hand of God." He turned around, and Waya was caught by the passion in his eyes.

"Shindou..." How could he redeem himself? Waya wondered. He had offered grave offense, even under the best of intentions.

Shindou was angry. He hadn't really thought of the younger boy having a serious temper, but right now he looked ready to start spitting nails. "Why are you still playing?" he demanded. "You've passed already, too."

"Because I want to pass with the best record I can!" Waya answered. He wanted to enter as the second-ranked new professional. He felt even worse, if possible.

"So do I." Hikaru's voice was sharp.

"Yes, but this game... it means everything to Honda."

Hikaru shut his eyes, before taking a deep breath. He calmed down noticeably, speaking much more softly. "Waya, I wouldn't be showing any respect for my opponent if I forfeited. Don't you think Honda deserves better than that?"

Honda did, Waya knew. "It's not an even match," he said. "Usually a stronger player will offer a handicap."

Shindou shook his head. "This is not about fair, Waya. It's about Go."

Waya tried not to wince again. "Shindou..."

Shindou moved too quick for Waya to stop, weaving passed the table and into the main room. He had screwed up badly; he would have to hope Shindou would be able to understand, after he calmed down.

"Waya, are you ready?" he heard Nase, who had just entered the room, ask.

"Just a second," Waya said, taking a deep breath to steady himself.

Throughout his game with Nase, he found himself distracted, glancing over at the Honda-Shindou game. Honda's shoulders were rigid, and he could almost feel the tension wrapping through the other young man. Shindou's face was intent on the board, oblivious to Waya's inquiring looks.

It took even less time than Waya had estimated. He heard a muffled sob, and watched as Honda slumped forward, tears streaming down his freckled cheeks. Shindou remained impassive for several moments, not offering comfort. He held himself tightly, before nodding his head with acknowledgment for his opponent. Honda was crying too hard to notice.

* * *

Weekly Go was very much a house magazine for the Go Institute, and made no bones about it. Their offices, the cramped facilities served twice as many employees as was legally allowed according to occupancy restrictions, were always filled with some reporter or other. 

Amano was just putting the finishing touches on his piece about the winners of the pro exam. A weekly didn't have the same stress as dailies dead, but there were still deadlines to be observed, and the end of the exam was sadly on the night before printing. They'd saved him space, but that meant he had to produce.

Flipping through the pictures his photographer had taken, he tried to find one he liked. Usually there were just head shots of the new pros, but he'd talked his editor into a larger group image. The buzz around Shindou was such that people were curious about what he was like. A few of the lower dans, like Isumi, had been saying intriguing things to their peers, and Ochi's look of sheer rage whenever Shindou was mentioned raised eyebrows.

He finally selected a shot of the three newcomers sitting on the steps of the institute. The oldest, Kanou, was in his mid-twenties and scrawny, looking much like any Go professional Amano had ever met. He was flanked by Waya and Shindou, who each sat comfortably, leaning against the stairs. Waya and Kanou were smiling - Shindou seemed to be completely indifferent.

It was a good picture, but Amano found it lacking. Shindou looked flat on paper. The film was unable to capture his personality, and while he was a handsome boy, the corona of sheer vitality that radiated around him was so much a part of his appeal wasn't conveyed.

It couldn't be helped, he thought. Amano leaned back in the chair, the wheels squeaking slightly as they protested his movement. Even as a senior member of the staff, his equipment still sucked. He'd have to move up to editor or something to get a chair which was both comfortable and functional. He loved reporting too much to give it up for a desk job, but there were times, especially moments like now when it was pushing eight and he hadn't eaten since breakfast, that he considered applying for management.

He heard the click of good shoes on the floor behind him. It was probably his editor, wondering where the hell his piece was. Hastily he created an email, sending it off so he could claim honestly that it was already gone.

"Working on the article on the new shodan?" A soft voice asked. Amano raised an eyebrow, a bit unsettled that Ogata Seiji was standing behind him.

Ogata wasn't an unfamiliar face at Weekly Go. He wasn't as aloof as some pros, though he tended towards silence unless he had something important to say. More than once, Amano had gone out drinking with the man, and found him to be serious, inclined toward broodiness, and utterly obsessed with Go. His presence this late at night was unusual, but not unprecedented. However, the other three times Amano had met him after business had all been related to big games, and it was an off week in the schedule, part of the reason he'd been able to persuade his editor that covering the new pros was worth a bit more ink than usual.

"Just finished," Amano said. He pulled his glasses off his nose, polished them on the tail of his shirt, before returning them. "How are you tonight?"

"Well enough." There was no scent of alcohol around him, so he was apparently sober. Ogata didn't drink often, but when he did, he was a mean drunk. "I wanted to see the results of the pro exam."

Amano blinked in surprise. "Haven't you been keeping up with the web site?" Ogata was one of the younger pros, and had been known to play a game or two of NetGo. He would certainly be familiar with the institute's web site.

"Haven't checked today. I was curious if Shindou passed undefeated. Aside from Akira, no one's done that before." His hands fumbled in his breast pocket before producing a pack of cigarettes. He held it out to Amano, who slid one free with a nod of thanks, before fishing a lighter out and igniting the tip of one for himself.

"He did," Amano confirmed, before digging out a pack of matches and fixing his own cigarette. They weren't supposed to smoke inside, but he figured he'd be able to use Ogata's presence as an excuse. Wouldn't want to get on the bad side of the Jyuudan, after all. "His opponent resigned halfway through."

"The other boy might have passed if he won," Ogata said thoughtfully. "Aren't they in the same class?"

"Honda's ranked third, Shindou's first. They've played several times, Shinoda said." Amano had been curious about their relationship as well. In Shindou's position, many insei might have been persuaded to show mercy on a friend, but that hadn't happened.

Ogata smiled with apparent satisfaction. "Interesting. Maybe he has the soul of a real go player." The second part was said softly, more to himself than Amano.

Amano shifted on his seat, uncomfortable. Ogata was too highly placed to have reason to care about an incoming shodan, although his point about Touya Akira was an interesting one. Amano had his ear to the ground, and their was no rumor of Akira mentioning anything about Shindou.

"Why do you care?" he asked boldly. He had no right to interfere with Ogata, but he could blame his reporter's instincts for the intrusion. There was a story here, and his insatiable appetite to understand what was happening around him was being thoroughly stirred.

Ogata didn't take offense. Instead, he pulled his cigarette out of his mouth, exhaling smoke that curled around his head like a sinister veil. "All players are ultimately playing for one purpose: to find the hand of god," he said. He tapped the ash off his cigarette into an empty cup that had once held Amano's morning coffee. "Have you thought about the New Shodan series yet?" Ogata asked.

"It's not for a couple months yet." It was not an important game, Amano thought, but he had the feeling that this year, it would be different. Ogata was smiling slightly, in a fashion that did nothing to reassure Amano.

"I'd like to play the brat," he said.

It wasn't unheard of for a pro to make a request like that, usually as a favor to a friend who had a special student. Shindou's sensei, Morishita, wasn't particularly close to Ogata (to be honest, Amano had the feeling he despised the younger man) so that wasn't likely.

"Any reason?" he asked neutrally.

"He has Akira spooked. I'm curious," Ogata said. The smoke curled around his head in thin tendrils before dissipating.

Amano realized that Ogata wouldn't be the only pro to volunteer for that game. Shinoda had mentioned the pros attending the insei sessions, hoping to get a chance to play Shindou. Still, who was he to refuse the Jyuudan? Except for Touya-meijin and Kuwabara-honinbou, there was no player more respected. "I'll see what I can do," Amano said.

* * *

Shindou Mitsuko checked the clock on the wall, noting that it was well-past time for her son to be arriving. She had prepared dinner to be served an hour ago, and still no Hikaru. She wasn't sure if she should be worried or irate. 

In the last year, she'd completely lost control over him. Hikaru had always been a charming child, if a little denser than she would of preferred. He was always ready to smile, and was cheerful no matter what happened. There had been that incident when he was twelve, but aside from that, he rarely was a problem. She'd heard stories from her friends about how moody teenagers got, but she hadn't been able to reconcile the idea with her son.

Then he turned fifteen, and suddenly she was living with a stranger. It wasn't a feeling she was unused to. Her husband was the stereotype of a salaryman, and she rarely saw him for any extended length of time. She'd grown used to mothering Hikaru, perhaps in compensation for her indifferent marriage, and having him change was shocking to her.

She stared at the table, wondering if she should clear it. She could try Hikaru's cell, but he likely had it off. He was in the habit of turning it off for games, and rarely remembered to switch it back on. She felt helpless and incompetent; a mother should know where her son was.

Finally she heard the ring of keys in the lock, and she hurried to the hallway in time to catch her son closing and re-locking the door behind himself. His hair looked a little windblown, and his face was drawn with fatigue, but other than that he appeared perfectly fine. She felt her temper rise at his inconsiderate actions.

"Hikaru! Where have you been?" she asked, placing her hands on her hips in the tried-and-true fashion of all irate mothers.

Her son didn't seem to notice. He pulled his jacket off slowly, folding it neatly over an arm before looking her in the face. "Sorry I'm late. I had to stay for an interview with some reporter," Hikaru said.

Mitsuko still had a hard time believing her son was interesting enough for the press to care about, but her father-in-law had shown her an article where he had been quoted. He came off brash and overconfident, but Heihachi reassured her that people in the Go world were taking notice of him in a good way.

"You have your cell phone, call and let me know if that kind of thing happens," she said, not backing down.

"Sorry, sorry," he murmured, before lifting his nose to scent the air. "Is that curry?" he asked, suddenly interested.

"Yes, I've had to re-heat it twice, so it's probably burnt by now." She mentally gave herself a shake, deciding punctuality just wasn't in her son's dictionary. "Come on, let's eat."

They took their accustomed places at the table, a spot conspicuously absent where Shindou Masao was supposed to sit. She couldn't remember the last time they'd eaten as a family.

Her son was quiet as he ate, and she wondered how to start a conversation. His face was blank except for the hint of fatigue around his mouth, lacking the animation that had so characterized him. She stared a bit at his face, searching for something to say.

"Did your game go well today?" she asked awkwardly. She didn't know much about Go, although she had asked her father-in-law for some basic lessons so she could better understand her child. The game was complex and confusing, and she wondered how her son, admittedly not the brightest bulb in the box, could do so well.

"I won, which means my insei record was perfectly clean."

"That's good, right?"

"I suppose." He sounded distant, and she noticed he was staring slightly off to the side. He'd fallen in that habit years ago, often avoiding looking people directly in the eyes. No matter how many times she'd lectured him about proper manners, he never had completely let it go, although it had gotten better in the last few months.

"Have you seen Akari-chan recently?" she asked, grabbing at straws.

"A couple times. She came to Tuesday's game to congratulate Waya," he said. "I think they went out for sushi or something."

Mitsuko had always nursed hopes that someday, her son and Akari might decide to start dating, but those had been dashed. Her son had no interest in his childhood friend, despite what both sets of parents had wished. Now Akari was dating someone else, and Hikaru didn't seem to care.

The conversation died again before Mitsuko found the nerve to bring up something that had been worrying her. "I was wondering if you'd given any thought what schools you were going to take the entrance exam to," she said carefully. "Your grades aren't the best, so I was thinking Midoriyama might be a good idea - it's got a good soccer program as well, and they might want you for the team." She had never understood why he had quit soccer, but maybe high school would see a renewed interest in the sport.

Hikaru pushed his dish back, shifting in his seat uncomfortably. He stared down at his hands, his expression slightly pained. He didn't say anything, but her parental instincts were screaming something wasn't right.

"Hikaru? Is something wrong?" she asked. "I know you might have some make-up work to do, but I think-"

"I'm not going to high school, Mom," Hikaru said. His eyes met hers squarely, and there was determination written in them.

She stared at him in horror. She had indulged his interest in Go, figuring it might help snap him out of the depression that had set in. "Hikaru! What do you plan on doing with yourself, then?" she asked. "You won't be able to get a job-"

"Mom - I just passed the pro exams," he interrupted her. "My job will be to play Go."

"But... but..." She didn't understand Go. She didn't see how someone could make their living playing a game.

"In a couple months, I should be earning enough to live on my own. We can talk about rent, or..." Hikaru shrugged. "Waya and I talked about sharing an apartment, though that might not happen."

"Rent?" she managed to squeak out.

"Sure. If I win a couple of matches, I'll be bringing home more than dad, so it seems fair."

She felt dizzy. She had known her son was growing up, but wasn't ready to confront the idea that he would be entering the adult world so soon. She was supposed to have three more years with Hikaru!

She remembered hearing the sound of his voice, murmuring late into the night as he played on his computer. She hadn't stepped in, because his grades were stable (although lower than they should have been), and he was happy. Now she realized she had made a mistake.

"Hikaru, there's no reason for you to rush so quickly into the working world," she said. "Enjoy your youth, and take your time." She didn't want him to know the heartbreak of reality, a place she couldn't shield him from. "You'll have the rest of your life to be grown up."

He picked up his cup of tea, cradling it in his hands. "Mother, I want to be the best Go player ever. There's not enough time to learn everything I need to know." He drained his tea. "Thanks for the meal," he murmured, before rising to his feet.

"But Hikaru-"

"It'll be fine, okay?" he said, offering his first smile of the evening. "Trust me."

She heard the sound of his feet as he ascended the stairs, and she sat, motionless. She was scared for her son, and her lack of power to prevent him from making a mistake hurt. All she could do was clear the table, trying to keep her mind blank.

Shindou Mitsuko didn't know her son anymore.


	9. Chapter 8: The Impression That I Get

**Brightly Burning**  
A Hikaru no Go Alternate Universe  
Disclaimers: Hotta and Obata. Shonen Jump. Not Mine.  
Notes: ladyaddiction once again gave valuable insights on this, and tdei also helped quite a bit.

* * *

**Part 8: The Impression That I Get**

Touya Akira was thoroughly bored. Leaning against the counter in his father's Go parlor, he flipped through a book of kifu without much interest. It was a slow day, with many customers finding other things to do, but a few die-hards were still present which meant _he_ had to stay.

Ichikawa Harumi had managed to snag a last-minute date and had begged him to help her. Christmas Eve was a night for lovers, she pointed out, and didn't she deserve an evening out? There had been many times Ichikawa had gone above and beyond her duties as his father's employee, and Akira owed her. So he'd agreed to take over manning the shop for the afternoon.

It was incredibly dull, collecting fees when he could have been playing himself. He shifted back and forth, trying to find a bit of relief for his sore feet. Standing for hours on end was more difficult than sitting seiza for a game. He made a mental note to make sure to always pay the countergirl well after he took the parlor over from his father.

The doorbell rang as someone entered and he turned his attention to the customer, half expecting Hirose. Kitajima was already present and accounted for and there were few others that would elect to spend Christmas Eve here, instead of with family.

He was startled as he saw the newcomer. Shindou Hikaru slouched in, hands tucked in the pockets of his black, school-issued winter coat. Akira recognized the other teen instantly. How could he not? His eyes narrowed, wondering if Shindou had come to challenge him.

He was a bit surprised to see the new pro raise an eyebrow of inquiry. "Touya-san, right?" Shindou had a slightly breathy sound to his voice indicating he'd taken the stairs instead of the elevator.

"Hello, Shindou-san," he said, bowing his head in acknowledgment. "What can I do for you?"

"I was looking for someone to play. No one's online, and I really want a good game..." he sounded wistful.

"Were you looking for me?" Akira hoped his voice was calm. It wouldn't do to scare Shindou off.

Shindou laughed, a bubbling sound that took Akira off guard. "Why would I do that? I didn't know you'd be here."

"My father does own the parlor." Akira heard himself speak with sharp impatience. Shindou was a very poor liar, he thought irritably.

"Really?" The complete, innocent surprise made Akira reevaluate his assumption. Either Shindou was an excellent actor, or he really had no clue that this was the Meijin's parlor. Neither reflected well on him.

Akira pointed to the sign on the wall across from him. Along with numerous plagues, a shelf of trophies sat, all engraved with Touya Kouyo's name. "It's pretty well known," he said dryly.

Shindou wandered away from the counter with an interested look on his face as he examined the awards. "Touya-meijin is really good," he said, sounding pleased.

"He's earned five titles," Akira said neutrally. Some might have thought him boasting, but he was merely stating fact.

"Not bad," Shindou replied, before digging into his pockets. Akira watched, passively curious, as Shindou produced his wallet. "How much is the cover?" he asked.

"It's 750 yen for adults," Akira answered, bemused. Most pros didn't bother paying, since salons welcomed their presence as a gain in prestige. It seemed no one had enlightened Shindou to that fact, and Akira was loath to point it out.

"I'm still in school - don't I get the children's rates?" Shindou asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Akira had known Shindou was an excellent Go player; he just hadn't figured on the other teen's ability to raise his hackles with just a few words. He felt like a cat getting its fur stroked the wrong way. Was Shindou really that cheap? Gritting his teeth, he pasted a smile on his face before answering. "If you show your school ID." He wasn't going to back down.

Shindou grinned at him, before digging through his wallet to produce a battered Haze Junior High ID, and slapping it down on the counter with 500 yen. Akira made a point of checking it out, noting the picture was a couple of years old. In it, Shindou was mugging for the camera with a wide grin, his eyes squinched a bit over chubby cheeks. He had been a cute kid.

"Fine, fine," he said. "Coffee is extra, though I think I have some hot chocolate around here." He remembered Ichikawa making some for him last week, but there were few other clients who would enjoy it. Most of them liked very black coffee, the bitterer the better. Akira had a sweet tooth, although he was loath to admit it.

"Hot chocolate would be great," Shindou said, removing his gloves and shoving them in his pockets. He vigorously rubbed his hands together, flexing his fingers a couple of times to test them. "It's pretty cold out." Akira hadn't expected him to actually take the offer up. He mentally checked the cupboards, hoping he could remember where the stuff was. Shindou chuckled as he noticed Touya's distraction, and interpreted it right. "Coffee works, too."

Touya lowered his head slightly to hide behind his hair, not sure what his face looked like. "Just a second, then, and I'll bring it to you. I think I saw Kitajima-san around - he's decent, he won't need too large a handicap."

"Don't you have time to play?" Shindou asked. "It'd be nice to play an even game."

Akira felt his fingers itch with the desire to play. He had been thinking of this boy's astounding skills for months. It would be wonderful to find out if Shindou could possibly measure up to his hopes - a rival, someone his age who would be able to walk the road to the Hand of God with him. The temptation burned, but he knew it would be a poor idea to indulge. Biting his lip, he drew on the patience his father had fostered in him. "I think we should wait," he said.

"Why?" Shindou asked. "You're here, I'm here, and there's plenty of gobans." Shindou sounded a bit put out. "Don't think I'm good enough?"

"My father says that it's impossible to know a man unless you play in a competitive game. It's something that a game played for fun will never match. I want to play you like that, when you join the world of the pros. I'm waiting for you."

He didn't know Shindou well enough to interpret the expressions that danced across his face like the colors of a beautiful dawn. Finally Shindou's expression settled with a small smile curving his lips gently, a more natural look than Akira had ever seen on his face. His eyes were a stunning, dizzying green as Shindou shoved his hands into his pockets. "Can you introduce me to Kitajima-san?" Shindou asked. Then the smile widened, and a grin bloomed. "But I'm still paying the child's rate."

"Sure thing," Akira said with a laugh before finally thrusting the 500 yen into the cashbox. He wondered if this was what friendship would be like. Inside, the small thread of hope that maybe Shindou would be what he'd been looking for began to expatiate through his heart.

* * *

It was a bright, clear winter day, with only a hint of chill in the air. The snow that had fallen last week had already melted, leaving the ground damp and ugly. Akari wasn't fond of the cold weather, but she preferred it to this uncertain blah-ness that seemed to permeated her bones. She felt listless, despite the new year's holiday.

Wrapped in winter coats which they left open, the pair stood together in front of the shrine, standing closely together with casual intimacy. Shindou Hikaru clapped his hands, bowing his head respectfully as he offered his wish.

Akari glanced over at him out of the corner of her eyes, wondering what he was thinking. She'd grown used to his distance, though, and knew better than to ask. She didn't want him to blow her off again.

She had been surprised when he'd agreed to accompany her, although she wasn't sure why. She and Hikaru had gone to the shrine together ever since they were little, and there was no reason for that tradition to change. They used to eat themselves sick on candy the vendors sold, but this year they'd refrained and only bought some takoyaki. He'd still eaten more than he should have, but she was too relieved to see him acting like the old Hikaru to seriously chide him for his gluttony.

She clapped her own palms together, lowering her head as she made a wish of her own. _Please, whatever happens, let us all find happiness,_ she prayed, thinking of her family and friends. _Let him find his way,_ she added, although it was probably a poor wish. Hikaru seemed to know exactly what he was doing, although no one else could make sense of his actions. She was frustrated, Hikaru's mother was frustrated, Waya was frustrated.

It wasn't all bad. She had found herself growing closer to Waya even as Hikaru increased his distance. Waya was a good boyfriend, and she thought she could grow to love him. They weren't serious - not yet - but recently their kisses had grown more intense, and her heart picked up whenever she thought of his charming smile.

Waya was interested in just about everything, willing to spend a day at a museum or just hanging out at an arcade. He was smart and patient for a boy, something he'd learned from playing Go. He also had a tunnel vision that was nearly as obsessive as Hikaru's for the game, but he never lost sight of the fact that life existed outside the Go world. She wished he could be here, but his family had traveled to Yokohama for the new year.

It only took another moment before she became aware of the crowd waiting at her back, willing her to move on so they could have a turn. Turning, she smiled at Hikaru, who gave her a grin back, before they hurried out of the way. "What did you wish for?" he asked, raising a teasing eyebrow.

This, too, was an old game. "Guess," she teased. They never told each other what they had asked for, but it was a long-standing tradition to offer speculations, both serious and absurd. They never actually confessed, but it was a fun game to play.

"Good grades?" he asked. "You're sitting the tests for Juuban, and you'll need all the help you can get!"

"I can get good grades by working hard," she said, scowling. She was a top student, but prone to fits of insecurity about her abilities. For Hikaru to tease her about her academic abilities was ridiculous since his grades currently resided somewhere in the basement. "Why waste a wish?"

"Smart. Okay, you wished for a cuter boyfriend than Waya?" Hikaru asked. "If you want, I can introduce you to a couple of pros - ever seen a picture of Isumi? My mother said she thought he was cute," Shindou said, turning around and walking backwards so he could watch her face.

"Wrong again, but thanks for the offer. I've already met Isumi," she said. She had, the same day she'd met Waya, and later again at the celebration party for Waya's passing the pro exam. Shindou had been invited, too, but he hadn't gone. "And watch where you're walking, you're going to run into someone."

"I have eyes in the back of my head!" Shindou proclaimed, grinning as he clasped his hands behind his back. That would have been the cue for him to crash into someone, but to her annoyance, it didn't happen. Hikaru had the most amazing luck. "Did you ask for Waya to marry you?" he asked. "I'm sure there's someone better out there for you!"

"Like you? Jealous?" she asked, before wishing she could take her words back. She had just inadvertently pointed at the elephant in the room between them, threatening their equipoise.

Hikaru stopped abruptly, the bright smile of merriment fading from his face. "We need to talk, Akari," he said seriously.

She felt her stomach clench with unease as he led her over to a bench, frowning so the ten year old loitering close by dashed off. He helped her sit down before taking a place next to her. Hikaru leaned forward slightly, his knees spread comfortably. "Akari, you're not... I mean, I know our parents used to..." he trailed off, trying to find something to say.

This conversation was long overdue, but she wasn't relishing having it. "When I was little, I used to think I'd marry you. It made sense, since our families were so close, and I liked you despite how stupid you could be."

"Hey!" Shindou protested. "I'm not stupid!"

"Tell that to your teachers," Akari said, smiling faintly. "Anyway, that was what I thought would happen. We'd get married, and I'd be your wife, and you'd get some dull job, and I'd keep house."

He nodded, avoiding her eyes by looking down and studying his fingers, now callused by the game he adored. "That wouldn't have been a bad life. I feel like I owe you an apology or something for deciding to play Go."

"No, you don't," she said quickly. "Can I finish?"

"Um, sure." He shifted again, his attention going to the crowd that was wandering the grounds. Then his fingers fell to his jacket, drawing it closed and fiddling with the zipper, dragging it up and down. The sound of the slide as it traveled the teeth was unnaturally loud, but Akari could just have been super-sensitive at the moment. Normally she would have smacked him to ensure she had his undivided attention, but right now she wasn't sure how to handle him.

"That was a child's dream. I didn't know enough about the world," Akari said. "You never made me feel like Waya does. You don't make my heart pound." She blushed deeply, finding it difficult to put words to her feelings. "You're Hikaru, my best friend, and I guess I can't think of you like a guy."

"A lot of guys would be offended at that," Hikaru noted idly.

"You're not," she said. "Which proves that you're not the same boy I knew. The Hikaru I knew would have snapped at me for that. You're... so serious, Hikaru."

"Akari... we all have to grow up sometime."

"But that doesn't mean we have to get sadder! I don't know what's wrong with you, but I hate to see you hurting! I don't know how to help you, or-" She felt tears gather again, and shook her head angrily. She wasn't going to do this. She had accepted that Hikaru had moved beyond her.

He put a hand on her knee, giving it a slight squeeze of affection. "Thank you, Akari," he said softly. "I wish I could tell you what happened, but I can't. It's too personal." His voice was firm, spoken in a deeper tone than she had imagined him using. His voice was changing, she noted, gradually dipping into a deeper tenor from the childish alto she had always known.

The thought was extraneous, and she dismissed it. The changes in him weren't just physical, but emotional. "Are we still friends?" she whispered. "You never used to have things too personal to talk about. You used to tell me everything."

He only had three more months of high school, and then he would be gone. Even though they were next door neighbors, she was starting to become afraid that she would never see him again. She had the feeling he would move out as soon as he had some savings, and forget to come back to his parents. It wouldn't be out of cruelty, but this new Hikaru had a focus on something else, something that didn't involve his family.

"I also used to sneak-attack you with water balloons," he said, trying to inject a note of playfulness back into the conversation. "I'm sure you don't miss that."

"I miss you. I miss being able to talk to you, and going out for ramen after a bad test. I miss going to your house and playing video games. I miss the way I could complain to you after someone made me angry. God, I even miss fighting with you." She wouldn't let him distract her.

"I'm sorry, Akari, but this is something I have to do. I'll always consider you a friend," he promised. "You know me better than anyone."

And she didn't understand a thing about his actions anymore. He had to be so lonely. "Hikaru, are you happy?" she asked, moving quickly to trap his hand with hers to keep him from pulling away. His skin was pleasantly cool against her fingers. "I mean, I know I'll never really understand why you've chosen Go, but I want to know that it makes you happy."

Finally he looked up to smile at her, meeting her eyes for the first time since they had sat down. "Happiness is not what life's about, Akari," he said. "It's finding the path we're supposed to walk, and accepting the challenges on it."

"Oh, Hikaru..." She hated hearing him talk like this, and those dratted tears threatened to spill down her cheeks.

Hikaru noticed, and his expression changed to panic. "Akari - please! Don't cry!" he said, looking flummoxed, rummaging in his pockets for a tissue. "If Waya finds out I made you cry, he'll beat the crap out of me!"

That surprised a giggle from her, though it was rather watery sounding. "Like I'd cry over an idiot like you?" she sniffed.

"Hey!" he protested again, his expression contorting amusingly as he tried to decide on an appropriate response. This time her laughter was more honest, and after a moment's hesitation, he joined in, snickering. That set her off, and they ended up laughing until their sides hurt. She couldn't explain why it was so funny, but it was.

A few of the passers by looked at them oddly, and Akari realized how out of place they had to be. It took a moment, but she managed to collect herself.

Hikaru patted her on the back awkwardly. He'd never been able to handle the emotional things well. "Do you want to get a fortune?" he asked, obviously looking for a diversion from their talk.

Not really, she thought, but found herself agreeing aloud. They walked over to where a miko was standing in a small booth set aside. People were drawing lots for fortunes, and they stepped in line. The atmosphere was still awkward between them, but her heart felt more at ease than it had in months.

She went first, and Hikaru drew his number a second later. The miko turned to retrieve the fortunes, returning with two sheets of paper. Hikaru grinned as he read his. "Excellent luck!" he said, waving his fortune above his head. "I'm going to win my new shodan game!" He grinned at her, and things were okay.

She listened to him ramble about his plans for the next year without drawing attention to herself. Akari crumpled her fortune on the sly without even looking at it. The future would bring what it would. For now, she would enjoy his company, and do her best to find her own path. Her road and Hikaru's might be diverging from each other's soon, but she would have faith in him. It was the best support she could offer.

* * *

January had never been one of Amano's favorite months. He disliked the cold, and missed the sunlight. The Go tournaments, though, were held all year long, so as much as he was tempted to skip off for the winter, he had to stay.

The New Shodan Series wasn't worth that much coverage, but it was timed during a lull in the title matches, which meant a reporter always attended. It was sponsored by his magazine as a way to introducing the new pros to the fans of Go. Sometimes, years later, they would pull the old articles out and re-run them, especially for players like Touya Kouyo. It was always a fun walk down memory lane, though many of the pros didn't appreciate it.

It wasn't without apprehension that he'd arranged this game with his editors. The New Shodan series was something the magazine did as a way of getting the names of the new pros out, and didn't go on their official records. However, it was the first impression a new pro made, and it sometimes could have a lasting effect on their play.

Amano found himself looking forward to this game more than usual. He'd always found the games amusing, but this time he was genuinely excited. He wanted to see how far Shindou Hikaru go. This assignment wasn't something people generally tried to land, since it had little prestige attached to, so Amano had snatched it up, understanding that this game was one of those that would be important down the road.

As he had predicted, several pros made offers to play at the Shin Shodan series, ranging from seven dans to other title holders. Ichiryuu-kisei had offered, and Amano regretted having to turn him down. Ogata had dibs, and Amano wanted to see what the Jyuudan would do.

The experienced pros who offered to play the newcomers came in three types. One was the gentle type, who would occasionally let the shodan win if they played well. The second was the one who truly wanted to test the shodan's skills. It was the third type that was most worrisome: those who wanted to crush the shodan to put them in their proper place. Amano wasn't sure which type Ogata was, but he was sure it wasn't the first.

Ogata had already shown up, wearing a white suit. Nobody had managed to impress upon him that white after Labor Day was in poor taste. He was speaking to Ashiwara, who was wearing a heavy orange sweater that made him look peaked - or more correctly, he was tolerating Ashiwara, who was gesticulating madly. There was an expression of tried patience on his face, and Amano noted how his fingers twitched toward his breast pocket, obviously longing for a cigarette.

Shindou still hadn't arrived, but he had another fifteen minutes before he was expected. From what he'd gathered - his own impressions and through discrete conversations with Shinoda - Shindou wasn't the kind of person to be early for anything. The new shodan would arrive on time, Amano knew, but just barely.

The photographer beside him was playing with her camera, adjusting its settings in some mystic way that lowly reporters weren't allowed the secret to. Tsujiwari Reiko was new, fresh out of school, and Amano knew she was clueless about the Go world. She was just working for her paycheck, a slightly disgruntled artistic type that Amano had seen plenty of. Taking pictures of Go wasn't interesting, but it paid the rent.

He listened as Reiko cracked her gum a couple times, a bored expression on her face. She was obviously less than impressed by the gathering of Go nerds. _Snap, snap, snap..._ He reminded himself that his dentist had cautioned him about his habit of grinding his teeth.

"Can you stop that?" he asked finally.

"Stop what?" She blinked at him, still snapping her gum.

"The gum thing," he answered.

"Huh? Oh, sorry," she said, reaching into her camera bag and pulling out a gum wrapper. She spit it into the wrapper without pretension, before glancing around for something.

"Know where a garbage can is?" she asked.

He gestured to the one across the room. It wasn't the nearest one, but it'd get her away from him for a moment so he could have a bit of quiet. Glancing around, he tried to find someone to fall into a convenient conversation with, but the lobby was pretty empty, and he wasn't rude enough to interrupt the few, quiet discussions already going on. He glanced at his watch again, noting that they had ten minutes before the photo shoot and interview was to take place.

Tsujiwari had disposed of her gum, and was on her way back. He mentally shook his head, bracing himself. He had the patience to sit through two days of Go play without flinching; surely a photographer couldn't drive him over the edge.

She came back to his side, opening her mouth to say something that would probably be inane, but then the door to the lobby slid open, and Shindou Hikaru walked in. "He's here!" Amano said, more relief in his voice than was polite.

Tsujiwari turned her head without much interest - and then she grinned, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she started to remove her lense-cap. "He's perfect!" she said happily. "I thought it'd be another of those assignments, but this is going to be fun!"

Amano squinted at Shindou. He hadn't really thought on how the boy looked, but now that Reiko had pointed it out, he supposed he could see it. He'd foregone the usually suit, instead dressing more casually. He was dressed neatly, in a pair of dark blue pants and an equally blue sweater, but his hair was still that ridiculous blond. Shindou looked like he'd be more at home in a skateboard park than near a goban, Amano thought, watching him tug at his collar uncomfortably. He didn't have the typical geekiness etched into his face that marked many of the young Go players.

Tsujiwari didn't notice his distraction, enthralled in her own little photographer's world. She looked through her viewfinder, and the snapping of her gum (apparently she'd decided a fresh piece would be okay) was joined by the soft click of her camera. She turned the camera a couple of times, before lowering it. "He's a great subject - his face is just going to pop. And those eyes..."

"I suppose you would say his personality 'pops' too," he said with irony. He had been in the business long enough to know that "popping" was good. It meant someone stood out in an exceptional way and the photographs would turn out well. The last time Tsujiwari had been this excited was when she'd first seen Touya Akira, making many complimentary - and loud - comments on his excellent bone structure. Akira had actually seemed a bit embarrassed, though he had handled the photo shoot with aplomb.

"All Go players have personalities that pop," she retorted. "It's like being weird is a job requirement."

Amano would have argued that point. It was true the Go world had more than its fair share of eccentrics, but many pros were the kind of people who just blended into the background. The characters just stuck out more by contrast. He was willing to wager that Shindou was quickly going to gain some kind of reputation, but it remained to be seen what it would be like.

He shrugged, deciding that filling Tsujiwari in wasn't worth the time. She wasn't about to listen to anything he said. "Let's get them together," he said instead.

She grinned. "They're going to be so pretty!" she enthused.

Amano didn't dignify that with a response, choosing to pretend he hadn't heard them. Walking briskly across the room, he met Shinoda with a handshake. "How's it-" he started to ask, but Shinoda waved him quiet, nodding to Shindou and Ogata.

Shindou was greeting Ogata. The man was watching him with sharp eyes, and Shindou seemed completely oblivious to the shark-like smile that was worn on the Jyuudan's face. Instead, he started talking to the man about a game Ogata had played last week, critiquing it without concern for the pro's seniority. Ogata was taking it in good humor, for him. An eyebrow was raised when Shindou asked about the wisdom of a certain keima, pointing out that working on the lower corner of the board would have sped things up.

"Maybe it was different because you were playing, ojiisan?" he asked. "Was there something I missed?" His casual attitude was too abrasive for the normally cultured Go circle.

Everything about this boy was just plain wrong. He didn't dress or talk right, and he was oblivious to the niceties that pros observed. His arrival as a shodan would shake the establishment. It would be interesting to see who gave way first: Shindou or the traditionalists.

"Maybe, brat, you should learn some respect for your seniors," Ogata said. "I'm not going to go gently on you today."

"Wouldn't want you to," Shindou retorted. "It's no fun playing if someone lets you win. Victory is better if earned."

Amano looked at Shinoda, amazed at Shindou's sheer gall. Shinoda, who was serving as one of the match officials, shrugged a bit. "Maybe we should get going?" Shinoda suggested diplomatically.

Amano nodded, cutting in before Ogata could find a scathing retort. "I'm glad both of you gentleman are here," he said, offering a hand to Ogata. The man's skin was like ice, he noted, although his eyes were spitting fire behind his lenses. Shindou seemed to have thoroughly pissed him off. Shindou's hands were much warmer, but his eyes were just as cutting. Feeling rather like a man who'd just stepped between two dogs about to brawl, Amano spoke quickly. "How about we take a picture here, and then get to the Room of Profound Darkness?"

"The lighting's not that good in here," Tsujiwari complained, but a glare from Ogata shut her up. The shot was set up hurriedly, and soon her camera was flashing, capturing the moment for posterity. Shindou was reluctant to stand too close to Ogata, keeping a healthy distance.

Amano chalked it up to a previously unrecognized sense of self-preservation. 


	10. Chapter 9: With All Your Passion

**Brightly Burning**  
A Hikaru no Go Alternate Universe  
Disclaimers: Hotta and Obata. Shonen Jump. Not Mine.  
Notes: Proving that I _can_ be bribed. This chapter is for Sailor Silver Moon, who is writing "Changes," the most awesome "Spirited Away" fanfiction on the net. 

* * *

_Part 9: With All Your Passion_

Waya sat in an uncomfortable folding chair in the observation room, with Isumi seated across a table. They waited – with two very different levels of patience – for Shindou Hikaru's New Shodan game to begin.

They had a goban and stones ready, planning to recreate the game themselves. He would copy Hikaru's moves, playing black, while Isumi imitated Ogata. Hopefully placing Shindou's stones might give Waya an insight into how his peer's mind worked, but he doubted it. He still couldn't read games deeply enough yet.

There wasn't a spare seat in the room. The crowd of pros, sitting in twos and threes around the scattered gobans, would have been more appropriate for a title match than the first game of a shodan. Rumors of Shindou's skill had penetrated through the ranks, and everyone wanted to see for themselves if he really was that gifted, or if rumor had exaggerated the truth. This game would be a good judge of that, because Ogata wouldn't cut anyone any slack.

Shindou was playing the last of the New Shodan games. Waya and Kanou had already played their matches, and both of them had lost. Waya had been scared witless of Kuwabara-sensei, who had a nasty habit of slamming his stones down in jerky, abrupt movements. He had known the Honinbou played mind games, but even that knowledge hadn't been able to steady his nerves.

Isumi had commiserated with him, although he'd never played Kuwabara, but he had also advised Waya to take it as a lesson. The older man was notorious for his nasty tactics, and he wasn't the only one. Many pros had developed irritating habits that could be distracting. Waya needed to learn to cope with it, because the world of Go was ruled by the utterly ruthless. While there was honor, there were also the unethical men.

Waya didn't believe in making excuses, but he wanted to believe that the lesson he'd taken from Kuwabara would help him later on. He would never, he swore, let anyone scare him out of playing his best. Fear had no place in a champion.

"How do you think this will go?" Isumi asked him. Since joining the pros, Waya found himself spending more time with his former best friend and less with his former peers from the insei classes. He could see now how he and Isumi had drifted apart. There was a distance between pros and insei, and though Waya wouldn't have believed it six months ago, he was overwhelmed at the intensity of the pro world.

"It will be interesting," Waya said. "I don't think he could beat Ogata-sensei in an even game, but with the reversed handicap... well, maybe."

It should have been a taboo thought. Ogata-jyuudan's star was in ascendancy. He'd plucked off one of Touya-meijin's titles the year before, which was an accomplishment. He was due to defend it for the first time in a few months, and many Go aficionados were wagering that he'd keep it.

Rumor had it that Ogata would be going after the Honinbou's title again. He'd lost the last match against Kuwabara, but most experts believed that it was time for the old man to finally lose. Ogata, they claimed, might just be the one to knock him off his pedestal.

"You have a lot of faith in Shindou," Isumi murmured. He rested his elbows on the edge of the table, propping his chin in his hands and regarding Waya neutrally.

"Don't you?"

Isumi shook his head. "There's something about him... a part of me wants to believe that he's as good as everyone makes him out to be, but there's something missing. Have you looked at his kifu?"

"I've _played_ him dozens of times," Waya said testily. "Probably more than anyone else. I'm familiar with his style."

"There's something about his style which seems... fake." Isumi struggled to put his observations into words. "He's strong, yes, but there's times when he seems to be imitating rather than playing himself."

"You're kidding," Waya said incredulously. "Shindou is impossible to predict. He plays those hands you can't decipher, and then he completely overpowers you. He's not an imitation."

"A copy is never as good as the real thing. There's always faults in it." Isumi dipped his hands in white's go ke, stirring the stones. "You know who he plays like," Isumi replied in a soft voice. "Everyone knows. It's why we're all so interested in him."

"He's not Sai," Waya said, shaking his head. "I've played them both, and while Shindou's good, Sai's a master."

"I think most of us know that by now, but he plays like him. Couldn't he be Sai's student?" Isumi asked. "Who taught him, Waya?"

Waya nearly growled. "I don't know, no one knows. He's secretive about it, and trying to press him for answers is like running your head into a brick wall. He's stubborn."

"If he's this good while imitating someone, imagine how he'll be if he learns to play on his own," Isumi replied.

Waya looked at Isumi, and suddenly all of his worries about Shindou crystallized into one realization. Shindou wasn't just going to surpass him – Shindou would surpass the entire Go World, and probably not understand the significance of his actions. "Maybe he has. He's been studying a lot, Akari tells me."

"Haven't you talked with him yourself lately?" Isumi asked in concern.

"Not really," Waya replied, trying not to squirm with discomfort. "I guess we just haven't made the time," he fibbed.

His friendship with Shindou had cooled over the last few months, ever since they passed the pro exam together. Some might have attributed it to their forthcoming professional rivalry, but Waya understood. Shindou was upset with him, and Waya couldn't blame him. Four months seemed like a long time to hold a grudge, but Shindou had been right.

In the Go world, throwing a game was dishonorable and disrespectful. There were no friends across the goban, just rivals. Competition was an entirely different matter than playing Go for fun. Waya had forgotten, in his desire to help Honda. It was strange that Shindou, who was so unaware of the culture of the Go, had learned that better.

"Waya, if-" What Isumi was said was cut off by the creak of the door.

The sound of the door wouldn't have been noticeable, except a dead silence overtook the room's occupants at the arrival of another pro. Touya Akira glanced around from near the doorway, his jacket folded neatly over his arm. He looked unsure of his welcome, and no one called any greetings.

Most pros had many friends among their colleagues, people that shared time in the insei and among study groups. Touya, though, had taken the exam as an outsider, and most of those in his study group were older, and not the type to take an interest in a New Shodan game, even if Ogata was the one playing. For those older pupils of Touya Kouyo, the results were already decided, and if they wanted to see a victory for Ogata, all they had to do was challenge him personally.

Touya Akira could have been here to watch Ogata, but Waya doubted it. Touya was there for the same reason as the rest of them – he wanted to see if Shindou really was the next Shusaku. That raised a mixture of feelings in Waya he couldn't quite define, and he resented Touya for that.

Apparently he wasn't the only one who didn't like the Meijin's son, since no one was making any overture toward Touya. The only one younger pro Waya had ever seen Touya acting familiarly with was Ashiwara, and he wasn't present. There was currently an exhibition gathering in Tokyo, and many pros were there, including Ashiwara and Ochi. That was part of what made this turn out impressive – Waya had assumed that many pros would go to that event, rather than watch a new shodan.

Isumi looked away from the board, his gaze settling on Touya with a slight frown. It faded as his chin firmed, causing Waya shut his eyes, knowing what was about to happen. He inwardly cursed Isumi for his never failing kindness.

"There's a free seat over here," Isumi said calmly, not having to raise his voice to be heard.

For a second, Waya hoped that Akira would ignore the invitation, but that was dashed when Akira turned his head, nodding to Isumi in acknowledgment. Akira moved toward their table as though the awkward silence didn't exist. He set his jacket on the back of the chair before sitting down.

"Thank you," he murmured. His shoulders relaxed slightly, and Waya realized that Touya had been nervous.

Waya almost felt badly. He'd never been the most popular kid in school, and there had been times when he'd been snubbed. What was it like to be ignored by the colleagues and peers who should have offered you respect? What was it like to have everyone afraid of your skills?

"Are you here to watch Ogata-san?" Waya asked after a couple of moments of uncomfortable silence had passed between them. If he was going to have to put up with Touya, giving him the cold shoulder wasn't a good idea. He wouldn't learn anything from this game if he couldn't discuss it freely with Isumi.

And Touya likely would have some useful insights, too. He wasn't a prodigy for nothing.

"Not exactly," Touya said, pausing carefully before he continued. "I was interested in what Shindou would do. I was wondering if he's improved."

Waya tried to suppress a surge of irritation. What was it about Shindou that got everyone's attention? Sure, he was good, but he was just a shodan, like everyone else. Shindou still had a lot to learn before he would become a threat to the upper ranks.

"Have you seen him at all since the Young Lion's Tournament?" Isumi asked, addressing Touya.

"He's stopped by my father's salon a couple of times," Touya replied, yanking on the cuffs of his sleeves before meeting Isumi's look.

"You've played again?" Waya asked.

"No." Touya wasn't a verbose person, Waya noted irritably.

"Any predictions on the game? Since you know them both?" Waya asked, deciding that if he couldn't ignore Touya, then he'd use him. Waya tried to recall if they'd ever spoken before, and realized that aside from that Pro Exam game, they hadn't. It could be Touya's arrogance, but Waya was starting to suspect the other teenager was shy.

"Shindou's going to surprise us," Touya replied. "He'll do something outrageous."

"Quiet! It's starting!" A voice, which Waya recognized as Saeki's, cut through their conversation. The people in the room started to fall silent, watching the screen with deep concentration. Waya reached into the goban, ready to help duplicate the game as he tried to comprehend Shindou's undoubtedly brilliant tactics.

They saw the back of Shindou's head as he bowed to Ogata, and Waya noticed that Shindou must just have dyed it, since there were no roots. It was a silly thought, but somehow that managed to calm him down. The boy playing against the Jyuudan was his friend; Waya wouldn't forget that again.

* * *

Ogata Seiji had one incurable flaw: a habit of thinking too much. He would analyze things until he'd picked them through to the minutest part, and then brood on what he'd learned. It made him a very effective Go player, but was one of the reasons he never managed to make a romantic relationship last longer than three months. 

He tried to keep a neutral expression as he sat himself down, tuning out the pre-game explanation he'd heard hundreds of times before. Instead of paying the authorities polite attention the way he usually did, he instead took the time to survey his opponent, wondering if agreeing to this match had been such a good idea.

Ogata's initial impression – and he usually drew very accurate conclusions upon meeting a new acquaintance – was that the boy was clueless. Probably brilliant when it came to playing – no one made it into the ranks of the pros without real skill – but Shindou was uncouth. Ogata hadn't been genuinely offended by the brat's rudeness, but he knew that it displayed how very ignorant Shindou was.

Shindou was listening as Shinoda explained how the hands would be recorded. The unofficial final duty of an insei master was to attend the shodan game, since presumably the insei would be calmed by a familiar presence. It was the last time the pro world would offer the semblance of consideration. After Shindou left today, he would be fair game to the predators that wanted nothing more that to knock him down to size.

Shindou was a young man on the cusp of adulthood, Ogata thought impartially as he stared at the teenager. He was full of that incurable confidence of that age, sure of his own strength. He wasn't at all intimidated by Ogata, not like he should have been. He was excited about this game, Ogata could tell, wiggling in his seat with impatience as he waited for the formalities to be finished.

Ogata decided he was annoyed by that. He hated cockiness. It would be a pleasure to put this youngster into place – assuming he wasn't Sai. Ogata wanted badly to find the hand of god, and he thought he saw hints to the path in Sai.

Sai shouldn't have been wasting his time playing on the net. He was too good for such amateur games. Numerous attempts had been made to find him, but aside from having identified Japan as his home, there was no indication of any kind of truth behind him.

When Sai had disappeared, Ogata had been infuriated. The invisible player had left after beating his mentor, and before Ogata had learned who he was. He wanted the Hand of God, and in the game Touya-meijin played against Sai, he thought he'd seen its shadow. This boy was the closest thing he'd found to a lead on Sai, and Ogata intended on finding, once and for all, the truth in the rumors.

"Do you have any questions?" Shinoda asked both of them, and Ogata jerked his attention back. He shook his head, glancing over at Shindou to see what his reaction would be.

"Nope," Shindou said, weaving his fingers together and flexing his hands. "I'm ready to play."

Shinoda exchanged glances with Amano, who was acting as Weekly Go's representative, but didn't say anything. "Very well."

"Please give me your guidance," Shindou murmured, bowing his head in the ritual opening.

Ogata returned the customary greeting, feeling the intensity of playing begin to settle around his shoulders like a mantle. He always played seriously, but being in the Room of Profound Darkness made him focus like nothing else. He could feel the history of Go itself around him, and that forced him to elevate the level of his game.

Shindou started by claiming a corner, and Ogata responded by doing the same. The next two moves followed the same way, and Ogata waited for the boy to make the next decision. There were a lot of _fuseki_ that could be created from this pattern, and what choice the boy made would offer a glimpse into his mind.

Shindou didn't wait. He claimed another star on "his side" of the board, which Ogata echoed. The boy took another outer star, and Ogata claimed the last, leaving only the Tengen – the central star on the board – uncovered. Interesting, Ogata thought. He hadn't seen _yonrensei fuseki_ in a while, since it had fallen out of style with many of his peers. It wasn't a _bad_ opening so much as a dull one.

And he didn't believe this boy was "dull." This kid had managed to get Touya Akira's attention. While Ogata was very close to the Meijin's son, he privately believed the boy was socially stunted. It was partly Ogata's own fault, since Akira had never been encouraged to hang around kids his age and definitely suffered from tunnel vision when it came to Go. For Shindou to get through to him meant either that some previously unrealized social instinct in Akira had roused, or that Shindou was an extraordinary talent. Ogata was betting it was the second.

He'd seen recreations of the games Akira and Ashiwara had played against Shindou, and had been entranced by the old-fashioned, bold moves. He played like Sai, he'd immediately thought. There was a depth in many of his moves that laid the foundations for greatness, but he wasn't there yet. There were weaknesses in his play. Ogata had seen Shindou's moves, which were daring and different, while still retaining the classic strength of Shusaku – and Sai.

But Ogata would have won both of those matches – and he would win this one, too. The boy was good, he thought as the game advanced in chuban, expanding the fight for territory into the center of the board. But he was a long way from being Sai.

Ogata could see echoes of Sai's traditional yet brilliant play in this teenager, but this was not Sai. Sai was an elegant player, and some of the boy's moves were sloppy. Most players wouldn't notice the minor faults, since the boy was powerful enough to dazzle with brilliant hands. But Ogata was one of the best, and he could see deeper into the game than most. All he had to do was take Shindou into _yose._

There was no way this boy could be Sai. He wasn't sure if his disappointment showed on his face as he played the next move. He had known it wasn't likely, but the rumor surrounding this brat had raised his hopes, although he hadn't wanted to admit that.

Ogata never dealt with disappointment well. It made him irritable, and his Go reflected that. With a few, positively vicious moves, he undid all the work Shindou had created, undermining his shape. The boy didn't back down, and Ogata retaliated with a truly brilliant use of _tenuki_, ignoring the battle in the lower right as unworthy of his time. By making the move in a new place on the board, he was clearly stating that he considered Shindou a weaker player who didn't understand the depth of the game.

He looked across the board, and saw that tension had drawn Shindou's lips into a firm, unamused line. The shodan played another move, but the fight had gone out of him. It was clear to both of them that even with the handicap, he would not be able to recover.

"I have nothing," Shindou murmured eight hands later, leaning his head forward and bowing his resignation. Ogata thought he saw a glimpse of moisture filling the boy's green eyes. The boy managed to suppress the tears, wiping a hand over his eyes quickly to remove any sign of his grief.

According to the unspoken rules of the New Shodan Game, Ogata should have complimented the boy on his play, pointing out its strengths and weakness. It was courtesy for the experience pro to offer words of wisdom to a newcomer, but Ogata was angry, and lashed out instead.

"You should have resigned ten hands ago. I am better than you are, boy," Ogata said. He pointed at the board. "You've come a long way on your own, but it will be decades before you're able to play against the best."

The boy looked up, a stunned look on his face. He shifted on his pillow, looking like he wanted to object. Ogata didn't let him speak, continuing cruelly.

"If you can't defeat me, there's no way you're ready to play Touya-meijin yet," said Ogata. "Knowing the rules of Go does not a great Go player make. You have to understand the spirit of the game, and you do not. I can see your ignorance in your every hand."

"Ogata-jyuudan!" Shinoda exclaimed, and from the expression on his face, he was ready to issue a reprimand. "You-"

Shindou cut him off his former teacher, returning the rudeness he'd been offered. "I guess I'll just have to go through you first," he said softly, his voice firm and unafraid. This time his eyes weren't shining with grief. They were glittering dangerously, and Ogata was taken aback. The boy's expression was suited to a higher dan, not a newcomer who had just lost his first official game.

"I'm going to get a cigarette," Ogata said, shaking his head and rising off his seat with the smooth ease of much practice. "I've already said all I intend to, since it's obvious this boy needs to learn his place before anyone will need to take him seriously."

Amano called for him to wait, but Ogata walked out of the room, heading for the doorway. He blamed the slight tremor in his hands on the lack of nicotine. He needed another cigarette.

* * *

Ogata stood on in one of the unoccupied meeting rooms of the Institute, the place he usually escaped to when he wanted some solitude. He felt uneasy, and tried to hide that as he fumbled through his pockets. His cigarettes he located easily enough, but after going through all his pockets twice, he realized he must have dropped his lighter somewhere, since it clearly wasn't on his person. 

"Looking for a match, Ogata-kun?" a voice said from behind him.

Ogata was proud that he managed to keep from tensing. Of all people to find him, it had to be the old bastard, already smugly puffing away at one of those cigars of his. Ogata kept his cool, turning to accept the matchbook with a muttered thanks, his hands shaking a bit from what he dismissed as nicotine deprivation. "Thanks," he muttered, taking a long drag of his cigarette, and feeling some of the strain melting away.

Kuwabara didn't say anything for a long moment before he plucked the matchbook back and tucked it into his shirt pocket, right by a fancy lighter. Ogata didn't bother to interpret why the Honinbou carried both matches and a lighter. It was probably more of his mind games.

"Silly of you to forget," Kuwabara chided, a smile curving his withered lips.

Ogata shrugged and didn't reply, concentrating on his smoking. The Honinbou just stood by the door, his hands tucked into his pockets.

Kuwabara-Honinbou took what Ogata thought was an unhealthy interest in his career. In a tiny corner of his mind, Ogata kept hoping the geezer would keel over and just _die_ already. His life would be vastly improved by that, but he'd hate it if the old man kicked it before he had the chance to make him eat all of his petty insults and annoying laughs. The finest day of Ogata's life would be the day he managed to claim the Honinbou title.

He swore to himself that would happen this year. The old man was going to go down, and hopefully suffer a heart attack in the process. Then Ogata would buy a six pack and dance on his grave.

"What are you doing here today?" Ogata asked when it became apparent that Kuwabara wasn't going anywhere.

"Just watching a game, Ogata-kun. Just seeing if rumor might be true."

"You should know that they usually prove to be false," Ogata replied.

"I'm an optimist, Ogata-kun," Kuwabara replied, the wrinkles shifting on his face as he displayed yellow teeth in what might have been a smile. "There's often some kernel of truth in most rumors."

"Not this time," Ogata replied, trying to keep from doing anything that the old geezer could use against him in the future. The man was one of the most manipulative bastards it had ever been Ogata's misfortune to meet. "The kid's good, but he's not the next Shusaku."

"Is that all you saw?" the old man asked, and he sounded disappointed in Ogata.

"What else is there to see?"

"That kid's special," Kuwabara said, blowing a smoke ring. "He's the one to watch, not Touya's brat."

"I'd be far more concerned trying to defend a title against Touya Akira than Shindou Hikaru," Ogata said derisively.

"Touya Akira has lived in our world his entire life. He's a refined diamond, glittery and bright. But this brat? He's not even seen a bit of polish. He's all raw talent, and he's already on Touya 3-dan's level. Imagine what he'll be like after he's been shined up some."

"You're getting senile in your old age, Kuwabara." Ogata snuffed out his cigarette by squeezing it between his fingers. "I saw just a cocky boy who didn't know how to respect his elders," he lied. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have things I should be doing."

He brushed by Kuwabara on his way out of the room, pretending not to hear the Honinbou's hacking laugh. Kuwabara, damn him, had cut to the core of what had bothered Ogata. The boy was not Sai; he was something more terrifying. Shindou Hikaru was the edge of the new wave, and was threatening to swamp the current Go world like a tsunami. Ogata wasn't sure if he would be able to keep from drowning.


	11. Chapter 10: Consequence of Progress

**Brightly Burning**

A Hikaru no Go Alternate Universe

_by: aishuu _

* * *

_Part 10: The Inevitable Consequence of Progress_

The observation room exploded into noise at the completion of the Shindou versus Ogata game. Pros were sharing their opinions of the game, some quite vocally as they tried to understand the underlying motivations that had resulted in the game's conclusion.

It had not been a good game, for either Shindou or Ogata. Shindou hadn't lived up to his potential, but Ogata's Go had lacked the polish that usually marked the top players. Ogata's Go had been vicious and aggressive, and didn't reflect well on him. As a title holder, he shouldn't have played so inelegantly. Some were wondering if Ogata was hung over and cranky – not an unknown occurrence – while a couple speculated that he'd been dumped by his latest lady love again. His Go spoke of a foul mood and lack of patience.

At one table, a trio remained quiet, examining the board as they tried to sort out what had happened. Shindou had been forced to resign, but all could see what the final board would have been if the game had progressed.

"Well?" Waya said, looking at Isumi and Touya. He wondered if Shindou had cracked, if Shindou had felt the pressure of expectation and collapsed under the weight.

Isumi shrugged his shoulders. "It's not a game to remember," he said. "There's nothing really special about any of the moves, although a couple of Shindou's as he attempted to come back might be useful to consider for future reference. It's not inspired, though, nothing like the way he usually plays."

Touya took longer to reply to answer, and he focused on the player he knew better. "Ogata-san was angry," Touya said. "He has a habit of reacting excessively when someone upsets him."

"And if anyone has a gift for ticking people off, it's Shindou," Waya agreed, following Touya's train of thought.

Touya lowered his eyes to the board. "I didn't mean to imply-"

"Touya-san, let's be honest. Shindou has a world-class Go talent only matched by his ability to put his foot in his mouth. He doesn't mean to annoy people, it just comes naturally to him," Waya said. He laughed, although there was an edge of harshness to it. "It's amazing he doesn't have a whole slew of enemies lined up to take shots at him."

"With his luck, they'd end up shooting each other," Isumi replied, having heard of a couple of Shindou's more colorful exploits.

"It's not luck," Touya said firmly. "Shindou's ability is skill."

"What makes you say that?" Isumi asked.

"Because playing Go seems to hurt him," Touya said. "Only knowledge acquired painfully can make a man look like that."

Waya tried not to react to that statement. He knew Touya and Shindou had made tentative overtures of friendship – gossip tended to spread like influenza at the Go Institute – but he hadn't believed it to be a close relationship. According to Saeki – who heard it from Ashiwara, always a good source of information on the Touya study group – they hadn't even played a game. It was therefore remarkable for Touya to say something that implied such intimacy, because males rarely thought about other's pain the way women did.

Isumi shifted in his seat, and Waya realized that he was probably uncomfortable. Waya knew he was blushing a bit as well, and decided to change the topic. "Let's go and catch Shindou in the lobby," Waya said. "We'll get ramen and pick his brain about the game. I want to know what the hell he was thinking, pushing so hard into Ogata's territory so early."

"Why the lobby?" Touya asked curiously. "He'll probably be in post-game discussion for a while."

Waya mentally cursed as he realized that he'd just inadvertently invited Touya along with them. It would be rude to tell him he wasn't welcome – and there was no way Isumi would let him get away with it. "Shindou's going to try to avoid the reporters and questions. He gets irritated when people start to pester him," Waya said.

"Then we should take the stairs," Touya suggested. "The elevator's going to be busy for a while."

Waya snickered and nodded his agreement. Most of the pros were in such poor physical shape that they wouldn't dream of taking the stairs. There was probably a queue that would take half an hour to clear. "Good idea," he said, and was rewarded with a shy smile.

He and Isumi cleared the board quickly, sorting the stones back into their appropriate containers. Then they left the room, forced to weave carefully through the crowd of players since many of them were gesticulating fiercely as they tried to make their points.

The trio ran down the stairs, and Waya was surprised that Isumi ended up the most winded. He hadn't believed Touya would be able to keep up, but apparently he did get some exercise. It made teasing Isumi a bit easier.

"You're getting old," he accused his friend playfully as they hit the second floor's landing, with Isumi panting heavily.

"I was sick last week," Isumi said in his own defense. "I'm still not operating at 100 percent."

"Yeah, yeah," Waya said, waving his hand back and forth dismissively. "Next thing you know, you'll be dyeing your hair to hide the gray."

"Right after you start lecturing the insei on the good old days," Isumi retorted.

"When I was your age, we used to play Go with pebbles in the dirt since we couldn't afford gobans!" Waya said, his voice a rather poor, but recognizable, imitation of Kuwabara.

Touya chuckled, covering his mouth in surprise. He sounded young, like a little child. Waya canted an eyebrow at him, deciding that making Touya laugh was amusing. "Find something funny, little boy?" he asked in a querulous tone. "I'll be ten years in my grave before you are even ready to wash my Go stones!"

Touya's shoulders started to shake as he tried – and failed – to contain his laughter. Isumi was looking back and forth between them, trying to decide if the sudden camaraderie was a good thing, or just Waya's way of subtly mocking the high-ranked youth.

"He would say that!" Touya finally said, brushing a hand over his eyes. He composed himself quickly, but a smile still lingered around his lips. "Ogata-san actually does a better impression, though," he confessed. "He's very good at mimicry."

Waya laughed at that. "I can imagine. Ogata's open about his opinion of Kuwabara-" he started, but was interrupted by the sound of the door they had just exited.

Shindou stood at the base of the stairs, looking furtively around. He looked both annoyed and harassed, which Waya attributed to the post-game discussion. Amano was a nice enough guy, but he was tenacious when seeking a story. Add in an irate Ogata, and the experience had to be less than pleasurable.

"Yo, Shindou!" Waya said, clouting him on the shoulder. "Up for some ramen?"

The pensive expression on Shindou's face faded away, replaced by the vapid one Shindou adopted whenever the topic of his favorite food came up. "Ramen! You treating?" he asked.

"Isumi is!" Waya said without asking what Isumi's opinion was. Isumi rolled his eyes, but made no objection since he was familiar with Waya's habit of abusing his friends' wallets.

"Then sure!" Shindou agreed. "You coming, too, Touya-san?"

"If it's not a problem," Touya said. He glanced over at Isumi, noticing the pained look on his face. "I'll split the bill with you," he murmured in an undertone.

Isumi gave him a grin of relief, and then the quartet set off for the nearest ramen stand. Waya had the feeling that Shindou was going to be his usual obtuse self, but somehow couldn't work up the annoyance to chide him about it. He was feeling too good.

Waya could admit – only in the depths of his mind – that seeing Shindou lose had actually made him more approachable. Shindou might be _good_, but he wasn't any closer to the Hand of God than any other Go player in the world. So Waya could offer him comfort and be his friend, because Shindou's loss had reassured the petty, jealous part of his heart. He didn't like what that said about him as a person.

He would have to change, Waya thought. He needed to become a better go player, so he could become a better friend.

* * *

After the game, Amano got a copy of the official record and proceeded to the Weekly Go office to write the story. He preferred to do the rough draft while the topic was still fresh in his memory. He'd be able to tweak it the next morning before handing it into his editor. 

He fetched a cup of coffee – black, no sugar – and spread his notes and the kifu out on the desk. He settled himself into his seat and tried to think of the lead. Amano still wasn't used to the laptop they'd given him a year ago when the paper had gone entirely digital, but he was starting to get the hang of things, although he still took notes by hand. He fired up his machine, wishing that the freaking program wasn't so slow, and that the department still employed typesetters who would do the typing for him. He was of the old school, who had written stories in longhand.

It was tradition that the Shin Shodan game of the top qualifier received more attention, since it served to illustrate what kind of players were entering the league. He'd written the one on Ochi Kyousuke the year before without much interest, but Shindou Hikaru's article had been a story he'd been looking forward to tell.

Like many reporters, he tended to write a story in his head while on the scene, looking for angles and the highlights of the event. He'd been mentally preparing a story about Shindou, and what he was adding to the New Wave, for months. Now he had to scratch those plans because the game hadn't been anything to get excited about.

The game had been solid, played with skill, but it had lacked flair. Ogata had been in a foul mood, and hadn't sought to play – rather, he'd been out to crush. Shindou's hands were brilliant in a couple of places, but he hadn't been able to put together a cohesive offense.

He stared at the blank document, trying to think of what to say. Amano was still staring ten minutes later when his editor, Ishinami Toshito, stopped by. He glanced over his shoulder at his senior, feeling a bit guilty about being caught.

"I heard Ogata creamed the new insei," Ishinami said in a carefully neutral voice.

Amano tried not to cringe. He'd been telling his coworkers earlier that he had an interest in Shindou, citing his performance in the qualification exam and Young Lion's Tournament. Ishinami hadn't been involved in that conversation, but nothing went on in the office or the Institute that Ishinami didn't hear about within a day. Now his overblown expectations were popped like a balloon, and his colleagues would have plenty of fodder for teasing.

"He did," Amano said shortly. "Forced him to resign before yose."

"It's interesting that he would do that," Ishinami said. "He may have a mean streak, but he's a good teacher. Can I see the kifu?"

Amano shifted his notebook so he could extract the game record without crumpling it. Wordlessly he handed the paper over, and sat silently as his editor read it. Ishinami had earned his position through his ability to distill the essence of any game into crisp, clear writing. He had a way of helping his writers by asking the right questions. Amano spent three minutes trying not to shift in his chair.

"This reminds me of another new pro game I've seen recently," Ishinami said finally. He set the paper back down, a slight smile pulling on the corner of his lips.

"It does?"

"I think it was about two years ago – remember the game Zama Ouza played against young Touya?"

Amano let out a low whistle. He'd been at that game, and had thought Ouza was doing his best to crush the spirit of the Meijin's heir. It hadn't worked, but the fact that Zama had feared the skill of a newcomer was remarkable. If his editor was right – and Ishinami was legendary for his nearly supernatural ability to understand players' motivations – then Ogata was worried about an unknown player.

Amano considered the idea, twisting it about in his mind, and found he liked it. It fit into his previous perception that Shindou _was_ something special. He pursed his lips, trying to keep his excitement from showing.

It didn't matter how good an actor he was, because Ishinami was already two steps ahead of him. "Interesting, isn't it? I wonder why Shindou has him – and all those other pros who requested to play him for his debut – worried."

Amano felt the smile bloom on his lips as he realized exactly how to write this article. Ogata's reaction, not the game itself, was the story. He nodded his thanks at the editor, before writing down a headline.

_"The Edge of the New Wave Threatens..."_

* * *

It was a strangely quiet quartet that finally found seats in the back of a ramen shop. It was dinner hour on a Saturday, and the patrons of the shop were young. Isumi was relieved that they didn't stand out, although they were more conservatively dressed than the rest of the crowd. 

Somewhere along the way Shindou had managed to ditch his tie. From the bulge in his pants pocket, Isumi wagered it was wrinkled beyond repair. The buttons on his collar had been loosened, and he'd casually thrown the blue sweater across the back of his chair and rolled up his sleeves.

It was strange to be in this company. Isumi still didn't know Shindou all that well, and before today he'd spoken less than a dozen words to Touya. Isumi hadn't known what to expect while spending time with Touya, but he'd been pleasantly surprised. Touya, like Isumi himself, was a naturally quiet person, introverted to the point of shyness. He would tentatively offer opinions when pressed, but most of the time he was content to just listen.

A cute waitress wearing a low-cut top arrived to take their order. To his surprise, Shindou only ordered one bowl, an indication of how upset he had to be. Waya's stories of Shindou's voracious appetite had made Isumi wince in fear of his wallet upon the invitation to this meal, but he would have preferred being cleaned out to the passive expression on Shindou's face.

Waya was talking about something – a date he was planning with his girlfriend to celebrate their six month anniversary – but no one was really responding. Shindou gave a half-hearted threat about what Waya could expect if he screwed it up, since Fujisaki was his best friend, and Touya ventured a suggestion on the type of flower to give, but the conversation was strained. It wasn't what was on their minds. No one had yet broached the subject of the game.

Isumi exchanged a look with Waya, wondering what his friend was planning. A slight shake of his head indicated Waya knew what Isumi wanted to ask, and wanted Isumi to wait. Isumi tried to figured out why as Shindou slurped away on the ramen.

Handling Shindou with kid gloves didn't make sense to Isumi. The boy was stubborn and sometimes painfully dense. Isumi knew the type, having tutored several young teenagers since becoming a pro. It would be best to confront Shindou directly if they wanted anything out of him, but he was more Waya's friend than Isumi's. He nodded slightly to indicate he understood what Waya wanted, a slight frown on his face expressing his discontent with that idea.

Another five minutes passed, and Shindou finished off his meal, pushing the bowl back. Isumi glanced at Waya, received a permissive nod, and asked the question that was the elephant in the room. "Now that we've fed you, are you ready to discuss your game?" Isumi asked, hoping his playful tone would mitigate any sting of inquisition his words might imply.

"There's nothing to discuss," Shindou said. He picked up his glass of water and took a drink, which was complicated by the fact that only ice cubes were left in it. He gave it an annoyed scowl, before leaning over to swipe Waya's untouched glass. Isumi wasn't surprised at his rudeness.

"There's always something to discuss," Touya said softly. "If we don't learn from every game we play, we're never going to find the Hand of God."

Isumi had heard many pros yammer on and on about the Hand of God, but there was a sincerity in Touya's voice that took him aback. Most pros speculated what it was, and would occasionally make comments about hoping to take a step on the path.

Touya, though, spoke as though it was a foregone conclusion that it wasn't an _if_ the Hand of God would be found, but _when._ Isumi found himself staring at the Meijin's son, trying to decide what he thought of that.

He wasn't the only one struck by Touya's tone. Shindou, who had been feigning apathy, suddenly was fully attentive. His eyes were narrowed and focused on Touya, his face wearing an expression Isumi hadn't seen outside of an intense game. Touya stared back at him unashamedly, and Isumi shifted uncomfortably in the seat.

The atmosphere had suddenly become intense, with invisible energy crackling between the two prodigies. Being on the outside was a discomforting sensation, and Isumi would have looked over at Waya for reassurance if he had dared to take his eyes off the two.

"Why did you play like that, Shindou-san?" Touya asked, his voice carefully modulated to avoid the tone of accusation.

"Like what?" Shindou asked.

"Like you were unsure of yourself," Touya replied. "Did the pressure of an actual recorded game get to you?"

"Well, maybe it's because I'm not good enough," Hikaru snapped.

"I think you are," Touya said evenly.

Isumi felt like he was watching a tennis match, his head moving back and forth between the two younger players rapidly enough to make him just a bit dizzy. He hated feeling like he was missing something. A quick glance at Waya showed his friend was in the same boat.

"You don't even know me," Shindou replied. "None of you do."

Waya flinched as though he was slapped, but Touya wasn't backing down. "I've played you, Shindou-san, which means I know you. There's no better way to get to know a person's mind than by facing them across the goban."

"That game doesn't count," Shindou replied, his nostrils flaring as his face started to turn red.

Before, Shindou had treated his loss very matter-of-factly, brushing it off with little acknowledgment. Now Isumi could see that losing to Touya Akira had bothered him, or at least pricked his pride. It was a relief to know that, Isumi thought, since otherwise Shindou became nearly an otherworldly entity. No sixteen year old should have the serenity of a master player with decades of experience under his belt.

"Really? I seem to remember collecting a tournament prize, so why doesn't it count?" Touya asked. He spoke calmly, not offended by the implied slight, by the way Shindou wasn't acknowledging him as a player.

"Because..." Shindou opened his mouth, before running an agitated hand through his hair. "Because you weren't taking me seriously."

Touya's face took on a cold expression, the one he usually wore while playing. Isumi's throat tightened, ready for an offended torrent of insults to fly. Strangely, it was Waya who defused the situation.

"Are you going to say your match against Ogata didn't count?" Waya asked, quirking his eyebrow in a playfully interrogative fashion. "He wasn't taking you that seriously, either. Shindou, every match counts, even the ones you lose."

"Especially the ones you lose," Akira added, some of the tension fading from his shoulders. Isumi relaxed as well, realizing that a screaming match had been deferred. "We're not measured by our victories – we're measured by our losses, and what we do to climb back up after them."

Shindou looked like someone hit him upside the head. His eyes went wide, and he started to breathe more heavily. Isumi wondered if he was about to have a panic attack.

"Are you okay, Shindou?" Isumi asked, cutting into the discussion before Waya or Touya could pounce on the perceived weakness. Shindou's color was waxen.

Shindou ignored the question. "No one wins all the time." He picked up a paper napkin and wiped his mouth, before discarding it back onto the table. "But that doesn't mean they shouldn't _try_ to."

"No Go player wants to lose - but we all learn," Touya said, "which is a kind of victory in and of itself."

"I won't lose to you again," Shindou said, his face lacking his characteristic smile.

The tension in the air between the two was palpable, and Waya glared threateningly at Isumi when he opened his mouth to try to dispel it. A quick shake of Waya's head conveyed his message: this was between the two Go prodigies, and they needed to work the confrontation out themselves.

"Come after me, then, Shindou-shodan," Touya Akira challenged, rising to his feet. His hands were held rigidly at his sides, and there was something dangerous in the slight curve of his lips.

"Come after you?" Shindou Hikaru echoed, and then he was on his feet as well, his hands cockily crossed over his chest. "I'm going to go right by you, Touya 3-dan."

As he stared at them, Isumi felt like he was witnessing something momentous. He just wasn't sure if it was a good thing or not.


	12. Chapter 11: The Halcyon Days

**Brightly Burning**

A Hikaru no Go Alternate Universe

Disclaimers: Hotta and Obata. Shonen Jump. Not Mine.

Notes: This section is in aramina's honor for correctly guessing my blindgo fic for Round Three. Sorry for the delay! And special thanks to uminohikari, who dragged this over the coals for me in a spectacular editing effort.

* * *

**Chapter 11: The Halcyon Days**

March was a month for endings, at least for school. The new year started in April, just like the professional Go season. In a couple of weeks, the new shodans would start to play ranking matches. But for today, Touya Akira wasn't going to be thinking of Go. At least not directly.

Akira had never considered what Shindou's school was like. Akira himself went to Kaiou, one of the most prestigious schools in Tokyo. He knew, intellectually, that public schools were different, but he'd never really thought what one would be like.

He didn't have much contact with people who didn't attend private schools. Most of the people who became Go professionals came from well-to-do backgrounds, and had the time to devote to a "leisure" pastime – and could afford the fees of professional tutelage. Akira would be the first to admit that the Go world was insular.

Haze Junior High was located in a thoroughly middle-class neighborhood. Some of the buildings looked old, but all the businesses appeared to be well-maintained. The campus, Touya could tell, wasn't as nice as Kaiou's, but it wasn't horrible.

The sakura were just starting to form flower buds on the trees, the faintly pink petals tucked up tightly. In another week, they would bloom, just in time for graduation. Akira was attending high school since his parents thought it was important, but Shindou had announced that he was quitting.

Akira wasn't sure if he was jealous or not. He'd only known the new pro for a couple of months, but he was starting to consider him a good friend. It was a novel sensation, but took a lot of adjustment. He wasn't sure what friendship really required, but he wanted to learn.

And then he wanted to kick Shindou around on the goban. It would probably end their friendship, but Akira was used to people walking away. He hoped that Shindou was made of sterner stuff, but he couldn't be sure.

Privately, he wondered if he could win. Ogata's extreme reaction to Shindou was the same as Zama Ouza's during Akira's New Shodan Game. And Akira remembered that day, back at the ramen shop after Shindou had crashed and burned against Ogata. He hadn't hesitated, meeting Akira's challenge without fear, without doubt, despite his spectacular loss.

They had only played once, back at the Young Lion's Tournament nearly a year gone. He hadn't expected Shindou's skill; for his entire life, his father had talked about the joys of having a rival, but he'd been disappointed so many times before that he'd quietly stuffed it in the corner of his mind, deciding that he would just overcome everyone.

Then Shindou had arrived. Inside, a part of Akira had bloomed, like finally getting rain after one hundred years of drought. _Ah, this is what it feels like to find a rival_, he had thought.

He reminded himself that only time would tell if Shindou was "the real thing," or just another mirage. There had been others, over the years, who had presumed to challenge the Meijin's son. It was telling that he couldn't remember their names.

He desperately wanted for Shindou to be that exception.

In a couple weeks, Shindou would officially start to play in the leagues and that might shift their dynamics more. Akira couldn't wait for that to happen, but he'd found a tentative friendship blooming between himself and Shindou. Waya and Isumi were also becoming more than mere acquaintances, but it was Shindou that drew Akira's attention in a way he couldn't define.

Touya Akira had never had any friends growing up. None of his schoolmates had understood his passion for Go, and the professionals and his father's students were much older than he was. He'd always been mature for his age, but it was sometimes difficult to relate to the older men, since most had forgotten what it was like to be young.

After joining Waya and Isumi on that day in January, he found his world starting to open up. Isumi invited him to a couple of study sessions with other young pros; Waya had offered to help him install a new Go program on his machine; there had been numerous invitations from Shindou to have ramen. It was strange and wonderful to finally find people his own age to _do_ things with, and he found himself looking forward to seeing them. Once he'd even managed to suggest they go to the movies, and all four had spent a fun afternoon.

Shindou, trite though it might sound, was a genuine force of nature.

Haze Junior High was preparing a final festival. Akira thought it was strange, but Shindou had extended a rather casual invitation, "You know, Touya-san, you're more than welcome to come." Normally he would have declined it, knowing it was just Shindou making an offhand remark, but he found himself unable to resist the chance to probe into Shindou's life. His instincts said that Shindou was going to be one of his greatest rivals, and knowing the forces that shaped him could only help in the long run.

But right now, he had other matters on his mind – like locating Shindou in this school chaos. He wished that Waya had been able to come, but he'd been tied up with moving. He and Isumi had found a two-bedroom apartment to share, and Waya was eager to leave home. Now that he was preparing to enter the professional leagues, he would have enough income to support himself.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for Shindou Hikaru?" Akira asked a passerby.

"Haven't seen him," the boy said, eying Touya's elite school uniform with disdain. He rather rudely kept on walking, leaving Akira feeling foolish for even trying. It might have been wiser to come dressed in casual clothing, but Akira knew his style marked him as a geek of the worst order.

Glancing around, he decided his best course of action would be to seek directions from a make-shift cafe that had been set up in one of the classrooms. He brushed passed a cheerful curtain, stepping into the room and feeling his stomach drop into his shoes.

It was hard not to want to back out as soon as he caught sight of the servers. All the girls were wearing aprons and cat ears; a few had even had attached tails to the back of their skirts. Akira had never understood the attraction of "cute!" that pervaded the Japanese culture, and he really didn't like things that were, well, silly.

Feeling a flush of embarrassment, he decided to single out one of the boys, who were acting as busboys. "Excuse me," he said, but his inherent shyness kept his voice quiet, and the room was loud, filled with the happy voices of teenagers. The boy just went on, having not even noticed Akira's presence.

He shut his eyes, wishing he had just thought to ask Shindou where he'd be. Maybe he should just go home. Luckily one of the hostesses caught sight of him, and saved him from his own cowardice.

"Can I help you?" a girl asked. "Would you like to have a seat?" She gestured to a gingham-covered table. The smile on her face was welcoming, but not flirtatiously so.

"Um, n-no..." Drat. He always stuttered when he was too out of his depth. "I was actually looking for a friend of mine." The words come out more easily. "Shindou Hikaru? He's a third year here."

"Shindou-kun? He's not in this class. I don't know what his classroom number is," the girl said, and she was kinder than the boy he'd approached earlier. "But Fujisaki-san is right over there, and she would be able to help you. They're good friends."

He thanked her, then turned his head to look for Fujisaki. He'd heard about her from Waya, but he'd never met the girl. Waya had never taken her to meet them, keeping his friendships separate from his love life. Privately, Akira thought it was due to Shindou's almost fraternal relationship with the girl.

She was setting down a couple's order, offering them a warm smile as she gave them _dango._ She was pretty, he thought, as he studied her. She had brown hair that had red highlights when it caught the light, and she was slender without being too thin. What he liked most, though, was the smile on her face as she discussed something with a classmate.

He waited a second for her to finish, before approaching. He'd never been particularly bold, but he was stubborn. He overcame his unease and walked right to her as she started for the "kitchen," a man on a mission. "Excuse me, Fujisaki-san?" he asked, and she turned her head to look at him.

Her eyes ran over him quickly, curiously, lingering on his school uniform jacket. "Yes?" she asked as she held her tray in front of her body, polite but wary. She was probably used to getting hit on.

"I'm looking for Shindou Hikaru, and I was told you might know where he is," Akira replied. His face felt warm, and he realized he was blushing.

"Oh! Are you one of his friends?" Fujisaki asked, and the reserve melted away, replaced by a smile. "He said he was going to try get some of his Go friends here."

"I'm Touya Akira," he said, bowing slightly. He wondered if she knew who he was.

"It's nice to meet you," she replied, returning the bow hastily. "Yoshitaka's talked about you a bit. Just let me get this sorted out, and I'll take you to Hikaru."

She was one of those natural-born leaders, Akira recognized, as she announced she was going to take her break, then efficiently delegated the tasks she'd been managing. She kept the apron on, but removed the cat girl ears. "They weren't my idea," she said with a smile as she tucked them into the pocket of her apron.

He was glad for her guidance as they went through the hallway. The cacophony of sound was disorienting, and people kept pushing through, zigging in and out of the crowd with aplomb. He had never actually attended one of his own school's festivals – his job was a convenient excuse – and now was glad of that. He didn't think his brain could cope with the sight of his classmates acting so... he couldn't think of an appropriate adjective.

"Have you known Hikaru for long?" she asked, as they came to a relatively clear place, where less action was happening. Apparently Shindou was working in another wing of the building.

"We met about a year ago," Akira replied. "During the Young Lion's Tournament."

She blinked, like she recognized the name. "Oh! I was there! You were the one that beat him," Fujisaki exclaimed, before putting a hand over her mouth. "You must be very good."

He didn't remember seeing her, but he'd never had much of a memory for faces. He could remember every hand of the game he'd played against Shindou that day, and that was what mattered.

"I'm a professional," Akira demurred, used to the compliments, although not usually from such a pretty girl.

"So's Hikaru now," Akari said softly, almost too low to hear. Akira decided to pretend he hadn't heard. She shook her head, shaking off a melancholy expression. "Do you like it? I mean, is it interesting work? Yoshitaka tried to explain it to me, but I just don't understand how a game can be so interesting."

Akira smiled at her softly, taking no offense. "It's hard to understand unless you play."

"That makes sense," she replied. "Yoshitaka's tried to teach me, a little, but I get confused." She took another quick turn, and Akira had to step quickly to keep up. "I'm going to get better, though."

"Didn't Shindou-san ever offer to teach you?" he replied, feeling a bit confused. He'd _thought_ Waya had said that Fujisaki was Shindou's best friend. Surely he would have wanted to be able to play her. Even Akira's mother occasionally played gentle shidougo games with his father.

"No," she said, shaking her head. She looked down at her hands briefly. "He never asked."

Akira blinked a bit. He didn't get it, but some sense of caution warned him not to say that. "Are we almost there?" he asked. "I'm feeling a bit lost – your school has a confusing design."

"I'm just taking a shortcut," Fujisaki said. "There's a lot of traffic in the main halls right now, and it's quicker to use the back hallways."

Had Fujisaki not been so firmly linked with Waya, Akira might have found it hard to believe that explanation. As he had grown older, girls had taken notice of him. A couple of very strange scenarios had resulted, and Akira had learned not to let them lure him off.

They took two more hallways, and then they were back into the crowd. She led him straight to a classroom labeled 3-6. "He should be here," she said.

That was a mistaken statement, though, because when Akira followed her in, he was confronted by a mini-carnival in process – and no sign of Shindou. He wondered if he was imagining it, or if Fujisaki's eyebrow was really twitching. Probably the latter.

"Kaneko-san, do you know where Hikaru is?" Fujisaki asked.

A solid-looking girl selling tickets looked up. "He went to get more prizes about half an hour ago," she replied. "You should check the A/V room. Assuming he didn't get lost."

Fujisaki thanked the other girl for her help, and then signaled Akira to follow her. From the tight control of her movement, Akira recognized that she was starting to get annoyed. "If you tell me where that is..."

She shook her head. "It's not your fault, Touya-san. It's Hikaru's."

"Oh," he said, since there wasn't anything else to say as they started to retrace their steps into the back hallways.

Apparently that was enough encouragement. "Hikaru's been different the last year or so. He's really grown up a lot, though sometimes I think it's in all the wrong ways. He's so irresponsible sometimes." She stopped, turning to look at him. "I don't understand him anymore, and that's okay because he seems to know what he wants. I just wonder if it's going to make him happy."

Akira was tempted to tell her that if Shindou had Go, he would find happiness, but Fujisaki wouldn't want to hear that. Besides, Shindou didn't really seem to enjoy the game – occasionally there were flashes of genuine enthusiasm, but most of the time his demeanor rivaled that of Akira's father. Not that it was a bad thing, but it was surprising in such a young player.

Thankfully she didn't seem to need any response. "You must think I'm being silly," she said, smoothing her skirt with a stray hand. "Maybe it's just graduation nerves."

"It's not silly to worry about a friend," Akira replied.

She glanced over at him, her expression carefully blank. "Will you..." She hesitated.

"Yes?" he encouraged, his curiosity getting the better of him. There were plenty of ways for her to finish that question, and few of them would be things Akira wanted to do.

"Will you be his friend?" Fujisaki nibbled on her lip, tilting her head as she waiting for his response.

He smiled at her. "He's already my friend, Fujisaki-san." And Shindou _was_, which was what was so thrilling and confusing to Akira. "I will do whatever I can to help him."

He wondered if it was the light, or if her eyes were full of unshed tears. Then the instant passed, and she was all business. "Let's go find our wayward friend," she told him.

It only took another two minutes to get to the AV Room, which was in the most secluded part of the school. It was likely a popular hangout for students avoiding classes or playing hooky. Akira noted the lack of internal illumination, and was about to point that out, but Fujisaki kept moving.

"Hikaru?" Fujisaki called, before pushing the door open. "Hikaru!" Now she sounded scandalized.

"Whaddya want, Akari?" Shindou responded in a slightly slurred voice, like he was just returning to full conscious.

Akira peeked over her shoulder – he was a good four inches taller than she – and caught sight of Shindou, sprawled across the top of three desks. He was wearing his black school uniform, and his hands were tucked under his head.

"Just what do you think you're doing, Shindou Hikaru?" Akari asked, her voice chillingly familiar. That was how Touya Akiko spoke when she was angry with her son. The use of the full name was a dead giveaway indicating an angry female.

"I fell asleep," Shindou said, brushing his eyes with his hands, resembling a sleepy child. "Not like my class is gonna miss me. Whaddya want?"

"Your friend came to visit you," she said, crossing her arms over her chest and letting one foot tap with impatient condemnation.

"Friend?" Shindou sounded puzzled as he sat up, before catching a glimpse of Akira. "Oh, Touya-san!" He waved a hand, as he smiled, his cheeks – still a bit too round for true adulthood – lifted in a grin.

Akira was unused to having people so honestly happy to see him. "Hello, Shindou-san. I... decided to accept your invitation."

"That's cool," Shindou said. "Not that I think you'll like this festival thing, since they're all pretty-" A cough from Akari indicated it wouldn't be a good idea to finish the statement. "Ah, let's go get some takoyaki. You wanna come, Akari?"

The girl rolled her eyes. "Unlike someone, I have work to do. And weren't you supposed to be bringing prizes back for your class carnival?"

"Haruka took the last two boxes. Why waste my time?"

"You could go back and help," Fujisaki said tartly.

"But Touya-san is here now." The sly smile on his lips was more playful than Akira could remember seeing before. "It would be rude."

Fujisaki threw her hands into the air, rolling her eyes. "You're never wrong, are you?"

"Rarely," Hikaru replied as he hopped off the desks and re-buttoned his uniform jacket. "C'mon, Akira... I think the baseball team is selling takoyaki in the quad."

Akira looked at Fujisaki, and wordlessly bowed to indicate his thanks and respect. She returned the bow, dipping her body lower, as she silently asked for him to look after Shindou for her.

* * *

Waya tried to hide his boredom as he sat across from the old man, who was busy puzzling out his next move. 

Glancing at the clock on the Institute wall, he willed it to skip forward. He clearly didn't have any superpower, though, because the seconds continued to inch by with painstaking slowness. He saw Morishita offering him a glare, and muffled a sigh as he turned his attention back to the game.

The Friendly Go tournament had hired a couple of lower-dan professionals to tutor. It was a mid-size event, staffed mainly by pros who weren't competing in major matches. The demonstration would be between Morishita and Serizawa, which Waya was hoping to catch. Watching his mentor play in public was a treat. There was always something sharper about Morishita-sensei's game when it was in the spotlight.

But he had to survive the morning first. He knew as a new professional, he would have to work his way up. Working these tournaments was a good way to make money, which Waya needed if he was going to keep his new apartment. He'd moved out the week prior, and he'd need to pay his share of the bills. Isumi had gracefully agreed to "cover things" until Waya was working full time, but Waya was determined not to be a drag on his friend.

Waya understood the necessity of catering to clients, but that didn't mean he had to like these events. Mentally he reminded himself that he was getting paid for this, and it wasn't the old man's fault that he wasn't even mediocre at Go. The man was trying to learn; surely that deserved a bit of credit.

Waya shared a problem with many bright people. He was used to learning things quickly, and didn't understand how solutions that were obvious to him evaded others. He had little patience for stupidity, and found others slow and trying. It was one of the reasons that Shindou's erratic brilliance got under his skin.

"There!" The man finally exclaimed, setting down a hand that effectively cut his own options in half. The move sucked, and Waya again had to refrain from sighing as he placed a response.

Twenty minutes later, Waya bowed politely to his client and bid him farewell. The man had been polite enough, but they hadn't managed to form any kind of rapport. He finally let himself indulge in that long-pent up sigh, knowing he needed to get better with people if he wanted to have any long-term clients. Some of the most highly-paid professionals were only mid-rank, but that was because they were able to hook some lucrative regulars.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, considering if he wanted to go get something to drink. Maybe he'd invite Shindou, he thought, turning his head to see his friend. Shindou was been assigned the table next to Waya's, and would likely be done by now. Shindou always played so fast.

To his surprise, Shindou's client was still there.

Shindou was discussing a game with the forty-something man who was squinting through thick lenses. "So you see, if you'd extended here, that would have made it more difficult for me to connect," he said. He pushed one of the Go stones over a bit to demonstrate, discarding the traditional "discuss, don't show" policy of most professionals. "See? I would have had to go here, and then..." he continued to elaborate, rearranging the board.

"Thank you, Shindou-pro," the man said, a smile of enlightenment on his face. "You're very good at explaining things so my old brain can keep up."

"It's Go. Go can be as complicated, or simple, as you choose to make it," Shindou said. "If someone's willing to learn, then the least I can do is take the time to make sure they get what I'm saying."

The old man laughed. "It's kind of you, though. I'll be watching your career!" he promised.

Wouldn't it just figure. Shindou was a gifted teacher. Waya hoped the sound of him gnashing his teeth didn't carry.

Shindou laughed. "That's nice of you," he said. "I'll try not to disappoint!"

"I don't think you could!" the man replied, smiling brightly. "And I'll be able to tell my friends I got to play the great Shindou Hikaru!"

Shindou squirmed a bit in discomfort, Waya was pleased to note. "Um, thanks," he said, and he glanced over at Waya, before starting to clear the board. "I'm going to have to excuse myself, Wakabayashi-san. Waya and I need to grab lunch before our next session starts."

After Shindou's client was gone, Waya decided it was prime time to yank his friend's chain just a bit.

"Does the great Shindou Hikaru want to join me for sushi?" Waya asked, clutching his hands in front of him like a fluttery tweenager. He even batted his eyelashes just to up the ante.

The look Shindou leveled in return could have wilted flowers. He stood up slowly, carefully straightening his clothing before looking over at Waya. "Were you born a jackass, or did your parents teach you to be one?" Shindou asked.

Ouch. Zing. Waya winced a bit, wondering why Shindou was being so offensive. Waya had only meant it as a playful poke, not a combative statement. He tried to think of something to say to defuse the situation as Shindou started to walk by him. He'd thought they'd been back to normal, but apparently he'd just screwed up and set Shindou off again.

Shindou spun around abruptly, and before Waya could think to respond, was on him. "Sucker!" Shindou yelled, messing up Waya's hair and hooting happily as Waya grimaced. He hated having his hair messed with – it was something of an ongoing prank of Shindou's.

Waya growled low in his throat, reaching out to catch Shindou to deliver a noogie retribution. Shindou, laughing merrily, dodged out of Waya's range. "You're buying lunch!" he declared, sticking out a tongue.

Waya scowled, but the sound of a clearing throat caused him to stiffen. Turning around, he saw Morishita, wearing a stern frown on his face. Dammit. He'd forgotten they were at a Go event, hardly the appropriate place for horsing around. While Shindou still didn't get the way the Go world worked, Waya certainly knew better.

"I'm sorry, sensei!" he said, dipping a low bow of apology to Morishita, hoping to appease the older man without bodily pain to himself. Morishita had wicked aim with that fan of his, and he had a very, very loud voice when annoyed.

To Waya's surprise, the nine dan didn't seem angry. He tapped his fan against his hand. Waya's master was looking at him thoughtfully, and Waya wondered what was coming. "If you two can put some of that energy into your games, you just might make the Hokuto Cup Team."

"What's the Hokuto Cup?" Waya asked, unable to suppress his always-present sense of curiosity. He'd never heard of a Hokuto Cup – and he thought he knew all of the competitions he was eligible for. Not that there were many, considering his inexperienced professional status.

"It's a new tournament for under-18 professionals from China, Korea and Japan," Morishita said. "The announcement just came to the Institute's news department, and Ishinami mentioned it to me since two members of my group are going to be eligible."

_Me. Shindou._ Waya looked over, and noticed that Shindou was paying attention, an intense look forming on his face. There wasn't excitement there, but likely Shindou didn't get what a big deal this was. Unless a younger professional had mad skills like Touya Akira, there were few tournament opportunities.

_Or Shindou_, the jealous part of his mind prodded, which Waya squished down firmly and placed in a tiny mental box marked "do not disturb."

"Touya Akira's already been offered a seat, based on his performance and membership in the Honinbou league," Morishita continued. He snapped his folded fan across the palm of his hand a couple times. "One of you needs to make it! For the honor of our study group!" Then he smiled, showing his teeth. "It would be even better if both of you qualified."

Morishita somehow managed to glare at both Shindou and Waya at the same time. Waya swallowed, feeling the pressure start to condense on his ill-prepared shoulders. He hadn't even had his first oteai, and he might end up playing against some of the best young professionals in the world? Waya followed the international Go web sites, and knew China and Korea both had several young prodigies that would be eligible for the tournament. Japan, on the other hand, had a smaller Go program, and fewer options.

He could feel the excitement racing through him. Shindou was likely to qualify for one of the two open positions; and it'd be perfect if he secured the third. The three of them would claim glory for Japan, and then move on to terrify the current title holders...

The fantasy harshly popped as reality set her cold fingers upon Waya's fancy. Waya was good, but there were other young professionals that he'd have to defeat – like Ochi. And if it was single elimination, then he might end up facing Shindou too soon.

If the Hokuto Cup tournament was comprised of youth of Shindou and Touya's skills, then Waya could well be getting in over his head even if he did win the right to play. Waya looked over at Shindou, knowing that a showdown – much more important than the Young Lion's Cup – was coming.

There were no friends across a goban - only rivals. Shindou had taught him that.


	13. Chapter 12: Enchantment Passing Through

**Brightly Burning**_**  
**_

_by aishuu_

* * *

_Chapter 12: Enchantment Passing Through_

Saeki Kouji, despite all appearances, was a morning person. That meant it wasn't a hardship for him to get to the Institute an hour early, even though he had skipped his second cup of coffee to do so.

The Institute followed the school year, although Saeki had never determined why. It was true that many of the newest professionals were high school students, but Saeki thought it would have made more sense to schedule things by the calendar year. Of course there were lots of things in this world that didn't make sense, so he didn't let it bother him. He didn't let much bother him, with the notable exception of Ashiwara.

It was a tradition among many study groups to ensure that an older member mentored the newcomers on their first game day. Saeki wasn't sure how he ended up with the responsibility for both Waya and Shindou, but he didn't mind. Waya had played his first pro game last week, and the experience of serving as senpai had been fun. He also liked Shindou, although truth be told, he was intimidated by him.

He was glad, though, that Shindou was joining the pro world. At least that way he could justify his string of defeats. Saeki was relatively insouciant for a professional, but he did have some pride. Getting kicked around the board by Shindou was humbling in the extreme, and he figured it was time that other professionals had the joy of losing to the young punk. Besides, maybe Morishita would lighten up on his nagging once Shindou started whomping the other lower dans.

Of course, Shindou had to make it to his first game in time to actually play it.

Saeki had been waiting nearly forty-five minutes. The elevator pinged and dropped off another load of pros, none of whom were Shindou. He checked his watch, wondering where Shindou was. Surely even he wouldn't be late to his first _oteai_ match. Saeki mentally gave him another five minutes; he did have a game of his own to consider, and although Mashiba was currently on the losing streak to end all losing streaks, Saeki needed to prepare.

Ten minutes before the matches were due to start, the elevator doors slid open, and Shindou walked in, squeezing his way through the other lower dans. A couple gave him cautious looks, his reputation having proceeded him. Shindou didn't even notice their concern, although Saeki did.

But now wasn't the time for that. He was here to show Shindou the ropes, not worry about Shindou's future status.

"Yo! Shindou!" he called, lifting a hand in greeting.

"Saeki-san!" Shindou gave him a wave in response, his lips curving in a half-smile. He came over without rushing, adjusting his backpack on his shoulders to shift the weight a bit. He was dressed a bit more neatly than usual – slacks instead of jeans – but still looked out of place in the Institute. Morishita had tried to get Shindou to dye his hair back to black, but that had been met with staunch, stubborn refusal from the new shodan. A very _loud_ refusal. "Are you waiting for someone?"

"You," Saeki replied, his lips twitching in amusement. Sometimes Shindou didn't have a clue.

"Really? Why?"

_Most_ of the time Shindou didn't have a clue. "I thought I'd tell you how things worked," Saeki answered, shoving his hands into his pockets. Some might have taken Shindou's surprise as rude, but he found it charmingly naïve. He explained about ordering lunch, and the basic layout of the playing room. He and Shindou checked the assigned seating chart, Saeki pointing out where the shodan would be sitting. Shindou listened attentively, asking no questions. The explanation went quickly, and finally Saeki bade Shindou to remove his shoes and get into the game room – there was only five minutes left before the match start times.

They were about to enter the main room when the door opened again, and Ashiwara scurried in. Saeki wasn't surprised to see him cutting it so fine. Ashiwara, despite his usually chipper personality, was the very opposite of Saeki in the mornings. It took him about an hour to wake up - Saeki had learned that during a rather memorable convention where they'd been assigned as roommates. The memory of those two mornings were deeply treasured memories (and possible blackmail material should Ashiwara ever secure a title) and proof that Ashiwara was more than an airhead. Anyone who could string swearwords into a ten-word sentences deserved respect.

"Saeki-san!" Ashiwara practically trilled, coming over with a brilliant smile on his face, slapping Saeki on the back with familiarity. He had no concept of personal space sometimes. "How are you today?"

"Fine." Saeki gestured to his companion. "Do you remember Shindou-kun?" he asked, and almost immediately wanted to take the words back. He was not trying to be mean, but he had temporarily forgotten that Shindou had defeated Ashiwara in the Young Lions tournament nearly a year before. Even someone as flighty as Ashiwara wouldn't forget something like that.

"Of course I do," Ashiwara said, his smile fading a bit but otherwise undeterred. "We're going to be playing at the start of May."

"That depends if I make the Hokuto Cup or not," said Shindou. "They might need to reschedule my _oteai_ if I do."

"So you decided to sign up for it?" Saeki asked. He'd wondered if Shindou was ready to jump into the tournament scene, especially such a prominent, international competition. While Shindou had the skills to make a serious attempt, there was more to professional life than just being good at Go.

"Sure! It means I get to play more Go against better opponents!"

There were times when Saeki wondered if Shindou really _was_ an idiot savant. There was no other explanation for how someone could be so brilliant at Go, while completely missing the cues for everything else. He opened his mouth to say something – he wasn't sure what, since Shindou had a way of making him forget the use of tact – but was stopped by a blessedly timed one-minute warning buzzer. "Better get into our seats," Saeki said instead.

"Good luck with your first _oteai!_" Ashiwara chimed in, either completely oblivious to the implied insult of a moment prior, or not taking Shindou's comment as a slight. Saeki heaved a sigh of relief mentally. Of course the good-natured Ashiwara wouldn't take Shindou's enthusiasm for an insult.

Shindou just smiled, and Saeki realized that it was Shindou's opponent who really needed luck.

* * *

The Hokuto Cup preliminaries were set for the second weekend in April. It was pushing things from an organizer's perspective, but the results would be out three weeks ahead of the tournament. That would catch the publicity cycle perfectly. It would remain in the news constantly until the actual event, with the media buzz ensuring good news coverage. Japan's relationships with Korea and China were always stressed, so any kind of peaceful competition among the three countries was automatically of interest. A steady month of publicity was worth the cost of organizing and sponsoring the tournament.Of course, many of the young professionals didn't understand how the marketing machine worked and were more concerned with the practicalities of winning. One of them was Yashirou Kiyoharu, who had recently qualified as a new professional at the Kansai Institute. This tournament was his chance, he knew. He'd promised his parents that he would attend high school, but he hoped that performing well would show them it was possible to make his future as a Go professional. 

His mentor had offered to accompany him to the Tokyo Institute – not the _real_ Go Institute, to his thinking, since the Kansai Institute was where _he_ played – but he declined in favor of enjoying a walk through a park near his hotel. He liked to move before a match, because sitting at the board for hours on end made him keyed up if he didn't get a bit of exercise in prior. There was a proper balance between body and mind, and he'd seen too many middle-aged Go players with prominent stomach paunches to indulge in laziness.

Though right now he was wishing he'd been wise and taken his mentor up on the offer of company. The Hokuto Cup ranking matches were due to start in half an hour, and he wasn't sure he'd gotten off at the right station. Born and raised in Kobe, he'd rarely come to Tokyo before and wasn't familiar with the transportation system.

He had always wanted to see the "other Institute," but that had been a vague thought, a consideration he hadn't really worked out. He knew that once he became a professional, he'd be spending time playing the eastern pros, but he hadn't thought it would come so soon.

It had taken him several years to convince his parents he needed to join the insei, and then a few more for them to allow him to take the professional test. He'd passed on his first try, which was a huge relief. He doubted he would've been able to win the argument again – and it would have been painful to be shut out from the life he wanted. Playing Go was like breathing to him. If he was deprived, he felt like he was suffocating.

Though his mentor might just kill him on principle if he didn't make it to the Institute on time. He glanced at his handwritten notes, trying to make sense of them. Then someone hit him from the side, knocking the wind out of him. "Oof!" he grunted as someone ran into him.

A boy about his age staggered backwards. He was dressed in jeans and a black pull-over, and his hair was dyed in a fashion that Yashirou thought was a year or two out of style.

"Sorry about that, man," the teen said, bowing a little in apology. "I guess I need to pay more attention to where I'm going."

Yashirou murmured a polite acceptance, "It's okay, it happens." It was partially his fault, since he hadn't been paying attention, either.

The boy crossed his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow. "Are you from Kansai?"

"What makes you think that?" Yashirou drawled. A Kansai accent was one of the most distinctive in Japan, and the boy's pointing it out was like asking if water was wet.

The stranger was either dense or decided to play along. "You talk funny," the boy replied, shoving his hands into his pockets and snapping his gum jauntily. He bounced silently on his feet, a bit hyperactive.

"Really? I think you're the one talking funny," he replied, unable to resist dangling more bait for this idiot to take blindly. He was going to be late to the Institute, but the verbal sparring was fun.

"This is Tokyo, I've home field advantage. If we ask the next five people who come by what they think, I'm sure everyone will agree you're the one who's talking funny," the boy replied. Yashirou could have taken that as an insult, but there was a charm about the boy's pride in his city. There had always been an east-west rivalry in Japan, but this boy didn't have the condescending attitude that many Tokyoites adopted when dealing with their Kansai cousins. Instead, he was playful, and Yashirou's sense of humor responded to that.

"It's true that Kansai residents have a better sense of humor," he responded. The joke was subtle, and he wondered if it was going to go over the boy's head.

"What does – hey!" the boy protested as he caught on.

As much as Yashirou would have enjoyed continuing the conversation – subtly mocking the stranger's denseness – he had a match to attend (and win – he was determined to be one of the three Japanese representatives). "Fun as this encounter has been, I've got to get going," he replied. "Can you direct me to the Tokyo Igo Institute?" He doubted the boy knew, but it couldn't hurt to ask.

The boy raised an eyebrow. "I'm on my way there now," he replied. "You can tag along if you want.

For a second, Yashirou wondered if this was some kind of set up, a trap to lure the tourist off into trouble or a mugging. Then he looked at the boy more closely and noted a surprising fact – the chipped nails and calluses of his right hand. The boy had a Go player's hands.

"Do you have a lesson there?" Yashirou asked curiously. He found it interesting when one of the cool kids – and this boy's style indicated that he did pay attention to fashion – got into Go.

"Nah, tournament qualifier," the boy replied, with a wave of his hand, before checking his cell phone for the time. "I need to get going."

It was all he could do to keep his mouth from falling open and gaping like a yokel. He forced himself to take a breath to calm down. "You a pro?" he asked.

"Yep," the boy said. "You?"

"From the Kansai Institute," Yashirou replied. He squinted, trying to place the face and failing. He didn't pay that much attention to Tokyo pros, unless they were title holders. "I'm Yashirou Kiyoharu," he introduced himself as he fell into step next to the Tokyo native.

"I'm Shindou Hikaru. Nice to meet you."

Yashirou almost made another faux pas by blurting out his astonishment. _This_ was Shindou Hikaru? His master had mentioned that there was another Tokyo shodan who'd passed the exams undefeated. He'd used the example as a way to keep Yashirou from becoming too proud, for although he'd dominated the Kansai exams, there were other players his age out there who were likely to be just as good. Of course, the phantom of Touya Akira was the standard all young professionals were measuring themselves against, but there were other threats out there.

He'd known that, but he hadn't been expecting this casual kind of person. Most Go players were introverted geeks, but Shindou looked like he knew something about pop culture, and had a social life. He squinted, and decided the face really was the one that had been pictured in Weekly Go a couple of months ago in black and white, standing beside a much taller Ogata-Jyuudan.

"You passed this year too, right? Undefeated?" Yashirou had performed similarly well, but Kansai was the smaller (and if he was to be honest, less competitive) Institute. Even though it was _his_ Institute.

"Yep! I've gotten to play a couple of _oteai_ since," Shindou replied. "Though this is my first real tournament. It sounds like a lot of fun."

Yashirou slanted a quizzical look at Shindou, trying to find where to start. A Go professional didn't play for something as simple as 'fun.' A Go professional sought advancement, prestige, and the Hand of God. 'Fun' was such a quaint concept that mentioning it was usually a sign of an amateur. Yashirou wondered how Shindou had ever managed to get through the insei and pro exam while retaining that kind of idealism.

He decided to let the subject drop, because offending his guide was not a good idea at this junction, but he would think on it later. By all accounts, Shindou wasn't a player to be trifled with. They turned down another street, and Shindou pointed ahead. "Right there," he indicated.

Yashirou tilted his head back to get his first look at the Tokyo Institute, which housed many of the most important Go professionals in the world. It was the base of Touya-Meijin, the man who was closest to the Hand of God. It was actually a rather unimpressive building, dwarfed by newer, more modern facilities. He tried to stifle the feeling of disappointment, for although he'd seen pictures, somehow he'd built up a more vivid image in his mind.

That wasn't important now, anyway. Inside was the Room of Profound Darkness, where many of the most important games were played. He hoped to get a peek inside, since he knew – he didn't hope, he _knew_ since he had faith in his abilities – that someday he would be visiting it frequently. It would be best to give his dreams something to work with.

Shindou seemed to be reading his mind. "Doesn't look like much, but it's the most fantastic place in the entire world," he said, before offering a grin. "Aside from the ramen shop three blocks from here."

"I'm sure," Yashirou agreed. "Hadn't we better get going if we don't want to be late?"

Shindou shifted on his feet, looking a bit embarrassed. "Wouldn't be the first time," he said. "I was five minutes late to my last _oteai."_

"You were _what?_" Yashirou was gobsmacked by the casual revelation. The professional league had only accepted them as working shodans a month ago. He wasn't sure what Shindou's schedule was like, but Shindou couldn't have been scheduled for more than four matches so far, and to already have missed one... There had to be a word to describe Shindou Hikaru, but Yashirou couldn't think what it was. Neither 'dense' or 'stupid' or 'thick' could begin to cover it.

"My friends, Waya and Touya, already lectured me on that one. And Morishita-sensei," Shindou added, wincing from the memory. "It's not my fault it was raining!"

"What would rain have to do with it?" Yashirou asked, feeling horrified and intrigued despite himself. They crossed the street together in the crosswalk, before hastening to the main door.

"I couldn't find my rain jacket and my mother wouldn't let me out of the house without it." Shindou chuckled a bit ruefully. "She worries."

That was something Yashirou understood. His parents were so unsure about his chosen career, and his mother was enough of a worrywart to do something similar. It was one of the reasons he tried so hard to be reliable, and prove himself mature. Shindou was a man child, doing adult things while having the emotional age of a ten-year-old. For a second, Yashirou almost felt jealous.

They went through the lobby, and Yashirou only had time to note the prominently placed fish tank before entering the elevator. It crossed his mind to wonder if Shindou knew where they were supposed to be only as the doors slid shut.

"If we don't end up playing today, how about going to a salon afterwards?" Shindou asked. "I'd like to see your Go."

The question took Yashirou aback, yet again. Talking to Shindou was like trying to navigate a maze while wearing a blindfold. There didn't seem to be a linear train of thought in his head. Most professionals would be worrying about the qualifying matches, not looking for a game afterwards.

Yashirou shook his head, deciding that trying to read too deep into anything Shindou said would be a waste of time. He might be a wonderful Go player, but that was all he was. Maybe the only way to get something through Shindou's thead would be to thoroughly trounce him in a game. It was a good plan, he decided. "That would be fun. But if you make it past the first round, it won't be necessary. We'll be playing in the finals."

"That's if you make it past, right?" 

Yashirou shrugged, hoping not to come off as too cocky. "I know how good I am."

"We all have off days," Shindou replied neutrally. Before Yashirou could take respond, the elevator doors slid open, and Shindou brushed by him.

* * *

Waya listened as the match officials recited the rules he'd already memorized. He tried to keep his cool, to keep from fidgeting or showing any sign of his unease, but it was difficult. He caught himself drumming his fingers against his leg and forced himself to stop. He needed to be calm, centered, if he was going to get one of the available slots on the Hokuto Cup team. 

It was kind of dizzying how fast this had all happened. Both he and Shindou – as well as that outsider whose name Shindou kept mangling – had just barely started into the regular schedule of _oteai_ and low-ranking tournaments, and now there was a chance that they could be playing for an international audience. Waya privately debated whether he was ready or not for that kind of attention, but the opportunity was here right now.

Despite the three-man team format, there were only two positions up for grabs. Touya Akira had already been offered a seat on the team, based on past performance. Waya tried hard not to resent the other teenager for it, since he'd spent enough time around Touya Akira recently to understand that Touya had worked incredibly hard to get where he was. Once upon a time, Waya might have assumed that being the son of the Meijin was only an advantage; he'd learned, however, that it came that it came at the cost of the weight of extra expectations.

He wondered if Shindou felt them as well. The Institute had been buzzing for months about Shindou as a possible rival for the previously peerless Touya Akira. There was the possibility that it was overblown hype, that Shindou would crash and burn spectacularly, but nothing had phased him yet. That was most likely because Shindou didn't care what people said about him. Whatever he was after – and Waya would give his right-arm to figure _that_ out – wasn't the same as what the majority of professionals desired.

Waya glanced over his left shoulder at Shindou, who was currently seated across the goban from a Kansai professional. Shindou was sitting patiently in _seiza_, his eyes focused on the officials as they went over the formalities, with no sign of wandering thoughts or nerves. That was the disconcerting dichotomy – Shindou was such a male ditz that whenever Waya saw him act like the powerful Go player he was, it took a moment to reorient his thinking.

"-with a komi of 6.5, since that's the current international standard," one of the older pros was saying.

Waya shook his head, returning his focus to the boy sitting across from him. There were eight young professionals – three from Kansai, five from Tokyo – in this tournament, all below the age of eighteen. Isumi, at nineteen, was too old for it. Waya, privately, was glad that he wouldn't have to face the experienced two-dan across the board. He'd never matched up well against him, losing with a regularity that was depressing. The only other person who so regularly thumped him was Shindou.

Damn it, he thought. Now was not the time to be thinking about someone who he wasn't even in line to play. He'd lucked out, and Shindou had been placed in the other bracket. Ochi was most likely to be his fiercest fight today. There two pros from the Tokyo Institute in his bracket and one from Kansai. He had a good shot of going all the way to the finals, since nearly a year of playing Shindou on a regular basis had helped his game improve a hell of a lot more.

The explanation finally wound down, and Waya straightened as he realized the match was about to begin. Looking at his opponent – Miki Keiji, a two-dan – he opened his go ke to realize he had white. He grabbed a couple of stones and put them on the board, shielding them with his hand to keep the other man from seeing. Slowly the Kansai professional replied with two black stones.

He won white. He smiled, knowing that his luck was in. 

Their game spread slowly across the board, each taking time to weigh each move. He could feel the sweat around his collar and had to stop himself from rubbing it away. Showing such nerves would only be a sign of weakness, and his opponent was canny enough to catch it.

By the time the lunch bell rang, they were well into the midgame. Miki was a solid player, but Waya currently had the lead and intended to keep it. He played his final hand right before the bell rang, leaving Miki with the burden of having to pick up after the hour-long break.

He stretched slowly, the kind of stretch his yoga-inclined mother advocated, before giving the board one final check and leaving. Miki was frowning at the board, and Waya mentally congratulated himself about psyching the Kansai professional out. As long as he didn't freak – and Miki didn't manage to pull out a move worthy of Touya or Shindou – he'd have the win.

Stepping out into the lobby, he found Shindou waiting, leaning against the wall of the waiting area. He'd already put his shoes on, but didn't have a jacket. He was staring at his feet, lost in thought, and Waya had to clear his throat. "Lunch?" Waya suggested.

"Sure, if NcDonald's is okay."

Thank God Shindou wasn't asking for ramen, Waya thought. He liked the stuff, but he'd been eating it all too frequently since moving out of his parents' house. "A burger and fries sounds good. Just let me get my things."

Waya quickly pulled on his footwear, and the sweater he'd stored in a cubby. The two then took off to the burger joint. It was on the same block as the Institute, which made it popular with professionals and insei, since their time was tight. They only had an hour to eat during lunchtime breaks.

Shindou was in an introspective mood, not saying much as they placed and collected their orders. Waya waited until they'd crammed themselves into seats at a tiny table barely large enough to hold both their trays before bringing it up. "You seem distracted. Is your game not going well?"

"It's going fine, my opponent should be resigning pretty soon. Just thinking of my next move," Shindou said.

"Your opponent get the last hand in?"

"No, I did," Shindou replied.

"Then why are you thinking so hard? Are you worried about something?"

"I'm not worried, I'm just thinking of the options if I were him. I've got a pretty good idea what he's going to do next, but it's fun to think of some more unusual moves instead. How's your opponent?"

Shindou's pure-minded perspective on the game sometimes made Waya feel guilty. "Pretty good, but I'm leading in territory. As long as I don't make a stupid move, I should win it." He picked up first burger, sinking his teeth into the overcooked meat.

"That's good." Shindou shook his head, as though brushing away his distraction. "You going to be okay for tomorrow?"

"What do you mean?" Waya asked, trying not to snap.

"You're stressed out," Shindou said. He pointed a finger toward the corner of his right eye. "I can see the tension on your face. You should relax a bit, or you're not going to last."

It was at times like this that Shindou managed to be infuriating. He didn't seem to get what winning entry into this tournament meant. "Unlike you, Shindou, I always take things seriously." It was the wrong thing to say, Waya realized as soon as the words left his mouth.

Shindou set his jaw, placing his hands directly in front of him. "Do you?"

Waya hung his head, knowing what Shindou was referring to. It was a mistake that would likely haunt their friendship forever. "I've already learned from that, Shindou. I apologized already for what I asked you to do in the pro exams, didn't I?"

"You can't have your cake and eat it too, Waya. You can't choose which games matter and which games don't." He lifted his left hand to toy with a French fry, before looking Waya directly in the face. "You should play all games like they're going to be your last, because you never know if something's going to happen."

It was a very macabre thought for someone so young. But that was Shindou, the strange blend of clueless kid and old fogy. "But you were just telling me to lighten up?"

"I'm telling you to remember why you play." He took a slurp on his drink, his shoulders starting to relax. "Look at the pros who are the ones with the titles. Touya-meijin, Ogata, Kuwabara... they're not the pros who only play to earn a paycheck or rank. They're the ones who genuinely love the game. If you forget how fun Go is, you're never going to get anywhere."

Now the conversation was turning surreal. Shindou had been the idiot who only a year ago hadn't had a clue about all the titles. Waya literally had to beat sense into him with a rolled-up newspaper. The turnabout was surprisingly unpleasant, Waya thought. Somewhere along the way, Shindou had assimilated what was important, while Waya had fixated on the trivial matters.

A table at NcDonald's wasn't the place most people expected an epiphany, but that was exactly what happened to Waya Yoshitaka at that moment. Staring at his cooling food, he decided to stop being afraid. "You're right," he said softly.

"I am?" Shindou sounded bemused, obviously not expecting that reaction. He'd likely been anticipating another fight.

Waya gave Shindou a wicked smile in return. "I guess it's proof miracles happen every now and than. I'm not going to get used to it."

"You're mean."

"A good Go player isn't necessarily a kind one. A good friend of mine once told me that."

The last of the hostility vanished from Shindou as he snickered. "Bet your friend was pretty smart."

"He had his moments." Waya flicked a salt packet at Shindou, narrowly missing hitting him in the face. "It's too bad we're not scheduled to play tomorrow." And he meant it – he'd been so eager to get through the tournament that he'd forgotten his own desire to grow as a player. Getting put into the finals with Ochi wasn't a lucky break, it was a lost chance.

"Yeah, it is." Shindou pursed his lips thoughtfully. "You ever hear of Yashirou Kiyosumi?"

"Isn't he one of the Kansai pros?"

"I think he's going to win his match, so I'll play him tomorrow," Shindou said.

There was that distance in his face that Waya found so intimidating, the one that indicated Shindou was thinking about Go and nothing else. He wondered what it was about Yashirou that had pinged Shindou's interest, since even Touya Akira had a hard time making Shindou take note of him. "You've got to win this game first," Waya pointed out. "Aren't you the one who's always saying that games can always go any way, and we shouldn't get too confident?"

"That's true, but there comes a point when a game is too far advanced for things to change. My opponent lost five hands before the buzzer rang – he just doesn't know he needs to resign yet." Shindou took another sip of his soda. "Besides, I want to play Yashirou. There's no way I'll lose with that in mind."

* * *


	14. Chapter 13: Searching for Rainbow's End

**_Brightly Burning_**_**  
**_

_by aishuu_

* * *

_  
Chapter Thirteen: Searching for the Rainbow's End_

Yashirou spent the evening pouring over the scant records of Shindou's matches – he was only able to locate less than ten. Thankfully his hotel had Internet access, or else he wouldn't have had even those kifu to study.

The only official game – his Shin Shodan match against Ogata – had showed a talented, yet ultimately normal, young professional. Had that been the only one Yashirou had seen, he would have felt confident that he could play on Shindou's level, but there were several unofficial records that were worrisome.

It was becoming vogue for web sites to collect "unofficial" records of games. Kifu collecting had always been a hobby for some, but with the advent of the Internet, there was a certain prestige to be gained by being among the top collectors. Several – usually retired old men with nothing better to do – made a point of attending every tournament possible to offer their recordings. Even a couple of the lower-ranked pros (the ones who knew how to use a computer, since the older pros tended to be in the Dark Ages, technologically speaking) liked to post records of all their matches.

Those records were the ones Yashirou found when he searched for Shindou Hikaru's name at several of the online databases. There were kifu of matches he'd played as an insei against his classmates, along with a couple of the games he'd played during the pro exam. Most worrisome was his only other "official" game, written down in an informal kifu. Apparently Shindou had played in the final round of the Young Lions Tournament last year, and nearly won. He'd gone head-to-head against Touya Akira, and almost claimed victory.

Touya Akira was the baseline every aspiring professional and lower dan used as the benchmark to measure their skills. Yashirou had spent hours studying Touya's kifu, and had been impressed at the brilliance of his play. The game he'd played a year ago against Shindou was up to his usual exacting standards – and Shindou had matched him, hand for hand.

Well, crap.

Yashirou studied the game, looking for some sign of weakness, an obvious flaw that would render Shindou beatable. Every pro, especially low-ranking ones, had problems they needed to work on in their styles. It took years – decades – to become a true master of Go.

The problem was he couldn't see anything... but there were few games which had been played through to the end. Such was Shindou's strength that he overwhelmed his opponents and forced resignations consistently.

And there might be the key Yashirou had been searching for. If he could bring the game into yose, there would be a chance that Shindou would slip-up. Shindou might just be one of those players who was weak in the end stages. It wasn't like the teenager was the incarnation of the God of Go.

He wished he had a printer, so he could make copies of some of the unofficial kifu to study. Shindou played interesting hands, and didn't shy away from nouveau concepts, although much of his style was based on older joseki. So instead he popped open a can of juice and studied his laptop screen until his eyes were ready to cross. He forced himself to go to bed at midnight, knowing he'd need to let his mind idle before playing the qualification match.

Yashirou knew he would dream about go that night. Sometimes his best ideas came while he slept, and if he won black, he'd be able to have a game plan in place. He had the feeling he was going to need it.

* * *

It must have been the day of a blue moon, because when Waya arrived at the Institute for the second day of qualifiers, Shindou was already there. He sat comfortably against a wall in the meeting room, idly switching his paper fan back and forth between hands. To calm his own nerves – playing Ochi for a seat would be challenging – Waya decided a game of Shindou-baiting was in order. Light-hearted teasing would help steady him, and maybe even make Shindou laugh.

"Yo, Shindou! I was talking to Akari last night, and she told me the most interesting thing!" he came over and clapped his friend on the shoulder, offering a slightly lecherous grin.

Shindou's expression was appropriately wary. "What?"

Waya tried not to snicker to himself noticeably. It was obvious his girlfriend knew plenty of embarrassing material about Shindou; one day he needed to convince her to write a list of potential topics down. "She told me that the first time you saw a goban, you fainted."

Okay, that was maybe stretching the truth a little bit. Akari had absentmindedly related the incident after sighting an antique goban in a pawn-shop when they'd gone shopping the evening before. Waya, who knew a player needed relaxation time to keep from over stretching himself, had agreed to an evening of whatever she'd wanted to do. To his surprise, shopping had been fun since Akari was willing to go into any store (including the video game store), and didn't demand that he carry all her bags.

They'd wandered down a narrow street with specialty stores, and Akari had wanted to examine some antiques to find a potential birthday gift for her mother. Waya had followed, and been impressed by a small selection of Go-related goods, especially a go set that was over one hundred years old.

The old goban had been a treasure, and Akari had been the one to have to drag him away, since it was outside his current budget. He was thinking about putting it on reserve, since he really wanted a quality board. There was something different about the older gobans, a slightly darker shade of wood and tiny flaws in the hand-painted lines. Waya knew some of the older professionals vastly preferred them to the mass-marketed ones put out.

It was a thought for a later time, maybe if he won his way into the Hokuto Cup. Right now, he was going to tease Shindou with the newly discovered gem of information. He mimed fainting, putting the back of his hand against his forehead and pretending to swoon. "Catch me, catch me!" he said in a high, quavering voice.

Shindou looked at him, his face tight. "Waya, it's really not funny."

"I'm just joking with you, Shindou," he said, winking.

"I don't want to think about that," Shindou replied tersely. He turned his head away, looking at the official schedule on the wall. There was no need to, since today was basically a repeat of yesterday's qualifiers.

For Waya, it was like getting a door slammed in his face. He still remembered the damage he had done their friendship, back when he had begged Shindou to let Honda win at the pro qualifier exam. He had thought they'd repaired their friendship enough for playful teasing to be allowed, but apparently he'd just struck another nerve in Shindou's unpredictable psyche.

But if Shindou couldn't take some good-natured teasing, it wasn't Waya's fault. It wasn't like he was trying to hurt his friend. Friends teased each other; it was part of the give-and-take needed for a relationship.

"Look, Shindou... sometimes I think I'm walking on a minefield with you. I don't mean to offend you, but I have no clue that I'm stepping on a mine until after you blow up at me. I sometimes wonder why there isn't a Shindou Hikaru Instruction Manual to help stupid idiots like me avoid that." He spoke so rapidly that his words were tripping over each other, but he was frustrated.

And maybe he was being a bit on the sarcastic side. But it was either speak honestly now, or punch Shindou from sheer frustration the next time Shindou went off without warning.

Shindou looked stunned, like he had been hit over the head by something much harder than a Go Weekly issue. "I don't mean to be like this..." he said softly, much to Waya's surprise. "I don't know what's going to set me off until I hear it."

For the first time, he was opening up to Waya, and it couldn't have been at a worse moment. Waya had known that there was something wrong with Shindou, some kind of deep-seated pain that stemmed from the very heart of his Go, and it was right before one of the most important matches of their careers. They didn't have time to discuss it now.

"Shindou... after this game, how about we go out to dinner and talk about this," Waya said. "I'm your friend, and I want to be able to help you."

Shindou's eyes were suspiciously glassy, carrying an extra sheen from suppressed tears. "I know," he said softly. "It's... well, it's hard to talk about."

"If you don't talk about what's bothering you, it'll just get worse," Waya said. "Keeping things to yourself only makes you miserable."

Shindou took a breath, and for a second Waya thought he was going to refuse. "Sure," he said. "If one of us doesn't qualify, that person picks up the check."

Waya scowled, knowing Shindou was much more likely to win. "Fine," he grumbled. "And that includes paying for Touya, since I think we should invite him. He said he'd be here at the end of the tournament to see if we qualified. He's at a festival in Yokohama today, so he's going to be running a bit late."

"That'll be nice," Shindou said. "I'm sure he'll have some interesting insights into our games."

Again, Waya had to refrain from hitting Shindou for fear of causing yet more brain damage to that bleach-soaked head of his. Touya wasn't interested in discussing this match; he was hoping to talk about the Hokuto Cup.

He was saved from the temptation by the sound of the elevator door opening, and the arrival of the Kansai professional Yashirou.

Yashirou slouched out of the elevator, slumping slightly in the manner of a true teenager. He looked around, before coming to stand next to Shindou.

"Thanks for yesterday, Shindou-san," he said. "I can't wait to see what kind of game you play against me today – I've heard you're pretty good."

"Ah, yes," Shindou said, stammering slightly. His eyes were a bit wide, and Waya instantly picked up the problem.

"You already forgot his name, didn't you?" Waya asked with exasperation.

"Eh-heh," Shindou chuckled, putting his hand behind his head. "I didn't think I'd need to remember it!"

_Whap!_ Waya cuffed him upside the head lightly, finally giving into the urge to try to smack some sense into him. And it also served to help him feel more natural with Shindou. "It's a wonder you remember your own name!"

Yashirou raised an eyebrow. "It's Yashirou Kiyoharu," he said neutrally, not sure if he was offended or not.

"Nice to meet you. Again, I mean. I'm Shindou Hikaru," he replied.

"I know." The deadpan delivery was perfect, making a subtle jab. He had greeted Shindou by name, after all.

Waya raised his eyebrow, finding he liked this new professional. "I'm Waya Yoshitaka," he said, not wanting to be left out.

"Nice to meet you, too. You're playing in the other match, right? Maybe we'll be teammates," Yashirou said.

Waya almost felt sorry for him. The poor guy didn't stand a chance again Shindou – with the exception of Touya Akira, there was no one in their age group who would be able to put up a good enough fight.

* * *

Yashirou settled into seiza across from the goban he and Shindou had been assigned. One of the tournament officials was going over the rules, but since there had been no change from this round to the last, he allowed himself the opportunity to study his opponent.

Shindou sat comfortably, with his legs crossed, his face intent on the empty lines running over the kaya. It was a sign that whoever Shindou's primary teacher had been was likely younger – all of the older masters tried to instill the strict discipline of traditional posture, but the younger ones focused more on getting their students to play first. Go wasn't that popular with youth, and younger masters understood that accommodations had to be made for the video game generation.

The little sidetracks his mind followed could have been counterproductive under different circumstances, but it served to relax him. They were natural, and helped put this match into perspective; it was important, since he desperately wanted to join the Hokuto Cup team. He planned on shaking up the Go world, but first he needed a stage to act from.

Finally the official declared the matches ready to begin, and the players performed nigiri. Shindou won black, making Yashirou wince a bit inside. Even with the 5.5 komi, he would be at a disadvantage if Shindou was anywhere near as good as rumor claimed. Even if he had wanted to start with a startling opening – and he wasn't sure he did, not against someone like Shindou – that option wasn't available now.

Dipping his head in acknowledgment of his opponent, he murmured the traditional words of challenge before waiting for Shindou's first hand.

Shindou didn't need to think at all, pressing his first stone into the 5-5 spot, an unusually deep move for a game to begin on. Yashirou smiled, and mirrored the move on the other side of the board. And then there was no time to be amused or to be intimidated, because Shindou was replying, and in this kind of game a player needed all his focus to avoid getting trounced.

On the periphery of his awareness, he sensed the ebb and flow of observers around the board, as match officials and fellow professionals stole peeks at their game. But that was secondary to the game Shindou was helping him create, an annoyance he dismissed as unimportant as they began a live-or-die fight for the upper right.

Shindou Hikaru was talented, pressing Yashirou passed his previous limits. The games he'd played in the pro exam were nothing compared to what Shindou was showing him; he wasn't afraid of Yashirou's daring hands, and always came up with a reply promptly. Moreover, he was playing some fairly outrageous, but amazingly deep, hands himself.

But there were times, brief moments, when Yashirou wondered how much attention Shindou was really paying to him. Every now and then, the other professional would hesitate for a brief moment. Once Yashirou caught the blond pro shaking his head, like he was trying to dismiss another thought. Yashirou had seen this kind of distraction in other players, usually when their personal lives were under crisis. The inability to forget other problems might create a weakness, if Yashirou could see and exploit it.

A large knight's move from Shindou made Yashirou frown slightly, thinking that a smaller one would have been a better play, since it offered a larger opening, but if he could secure the lower left... his eyes darted over the board, trying to decide how to press his attack.

_There! _A part of him wondered if it was a trap, but he didn't have any other option but to take it. He laid the stone down firmly, not willing to show his wariness in front of this opponent.

Shindou inhaled softly, a sound that Yashirou would have missed, had he not been paying close attention. His move had changed the flow of the game, which up until then Shindou had been controlling. The shift was minute, but in a game this tightly contested, Shindou would have to do something drastic to take back the lead.

Yashirou could feel his heart threatening to pound its way free of his chest; Go like this was intense, both mentally and physically taxing. Go like this was why Yashirou played in the first place, pushing his limits and seeking to improve his game.

He was going to win, he told himself.

Then they entered the end game, fighting for every moku there was. Yose was something Yashirou knew as well as the back of his own hands, and it went as expected. As Shindou placed the final stone in the board, Yashirou thought that win or lose, it was the best game he'd ever played.

They shifted the stones so they could count territory. It was a complicated game, and it wasn't immediately obvious who won. But after counting it up, there was no denying the final result.

Yashirou looked at the board, and realized he'd won. He slumped in his seat, feeling like he'd just crossed the finish line of a marathon. If games like this awaited him as a professional, Yashirou didn't regret his decision to pursue Go as a career. It was worth the fights with his parents, worth all the sacrifices he had made.

The observers burst into comment, several of them calling their congratulations to Yashirou. He managed a relieved smile. Feeling parched, he reached over to take a drink of the cold tea that sat to his left, since he knew people would want to discuss the complicated game. Yashirou owed Shindou his thanks, and his condolences, he thought, turning his attention to his vanquished opponent.

Shindou's head hung low, his bleached bangs blocking his eyes. Yashirou wondered if he was crying, but after taking several deep breaths, Shindou lifted his head. His eyes were blank, void of any kind of emotion.

"Thank you for the game," Shindou said, before pushing himself to his feet and leaving the room, not waiting for a post-game discussion.

Yashirou watched him go, knowing that winning this game had proven – to himself, and hopefully to his parents – that he had what it took to compete with the best. He couldn't help but think Shindou was a poor sport for making such a hasty exit, but he could understand. While Yashirou had proven himself, Shindou had just crashed and burned spectacularly.

* * *

Amano was relieved to see Ishinami in the office when he returned, since he wanted to discuss the results. It had been a shocker for him, but on reflection he couldn't say it was entirely unexpected. While Shindou had amassed an impressive number of wins as an insei, that meant nothing now that he was officially a pro.

Ishinami was tweaking an intern's copy, muttering to himself about the way "kids these days" wrote. Looking up, the older man pushed his reading glasses back on his forehead and gestured for Amano to sit. "So it's Waya and Yashirou? What happened? I thought Shindou was supposed to cruise through."

He wasn't surprised Ishinami already knew the results. Kosemura had likely come back immediately to talk about it. The younger reporter had talent as a writer, but was still very excitable and lacked discretion. It would be a while before any truly important assignment was given into his hands.

"He should have," Amano said. "From all accounts Yashirou-shodan is good, but he's not on Touya Akira's level... and since Shindou managed to play nearly evenly with young Touya at last year's Young Lion's tournament, Shindou should have won. I would've bet on it, but..."

"But that's why we actually bother to play games," Ishinami said reasonably. "If we already knew how things would fall out, life – and Go – would be boring. It's when the unexpected happens that makes the game worth playing."

"That's very nice philosophy, Ishinami-san, but I'd rather figure out why it happened," said Amano.

Ishinami put the pen and print-out down – he, like Amano, preferred to work from hard copies whenever possible – and straightened in his chair. With a gesture of his hand, he indicated that Amano should make himself comfortable.

Amano sat down, digging into his shirt pocket for a cigar, feeling a need for a nicotine hit. After lighting up, he inhaled deeply, feeling the tension in his shoulders start to relax. He should know now not to get emotionally invested in the story, but it was inevitable. He'd thought he'd seen the future of Go in Shindou's talent, but now wasn't so sure.

"Tell me why this is bothering you so much," Ishinami ordered.

"I'm disappointed," Amano admitted. "Shindou's brilliant, but he doesn't seem to do well when under pressure. So far the only games he's lost are the ones that count. And he's lost all of his major matches – the one against Ogata, the one against young Touya, and now the qualifier for the Hokuto Cup."

"So he's fragile?"

"Is there any other excuse?"

"Maybe he just hasn't accepted his own strength," Ishinami said, scratching his chin in an inscrutable way.

"What do you mean by that?"

Ishinami leaned forward slightly. "Tell me, what's Touya Kouyo's biggest problem?"

The question was ridiculous, Amano couldn't help thinking. Touya Kouyo was the undisputed reigning king of Japanese Go, currently holding four titles and due to challenge for a fifth. His understanding of the game was surpassed by no one, and he had no rival.

"If I could tell you that, I'd be challenging for the Meijin title, not covering the games," Amano said glibly, adjusting his glasses.

"Just because you can recognize someone's weaknesses doesn't mean you'll have the power to take advantage of them," Ishinami scolded gently. Amano squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, and wondered how his boss was still able to make him feel like an errant teenager. "Touya Meijin's weakness is fairly obvious, if you think on it."

Amano wondered if this was going to be one of those discussions where he was left with "homework," offered tantalizing clues that he needed to put together himself. He racked his brain, trying to understand what Ishinami was getting at, and failing. "Touya Meijin is without peer," he said finally. "I don't see how he can have any obvious flaw."

Ishinami gave a slight smile. "That's just it. The God of Go must be lonely, don't you think? Without a rival, there's no way for him to ever reach the Hand of God."


End file.
